


High School Sweethearts

by PurplePatchwork



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Post-Break Up, Romantic Comedy, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-04-15 00:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14147949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePatchwork/pseuds/PurplePatchwork
Summary: Ivan thought he had got over his first love. But when that love once again enters his life, things get...complicated.





	1. Forgetting Alfred F. Jones

“No sis, I am not interested.”

“But he is very nice-looking, and he likes men!”

Ivan shook the pan he was holding, getting ready to flip a pancake. He readjusted the phone he was currently holding to his ear.

“My standards are not low enough for me to be interested in every gay man that crosses paths with me, Katyusha.”

Ivan could almost hear his sister roll her eyes. Lips pursed, brow drawn together, he concentrated on flipping the pancake, catching it with a satisfied sigh. Nice and brown, exactly the right thickness. Almost done.

“I am just trying to help you get a date, Vanya.”

“Perhaps I am not interested in dating anyone right now.”

The stove was turned off. Low murmurs from the old-fashioned radio filled his tiny kitchen. The table was set for one.

“Vanya. You have not dated anyone in years. I only want for you to be happy.”

He could hear the caution in her voice as she delicately danced around the topic. It had indeed been quite a couple of years since he’d last been in a serious relationship with someone. In fact, that had been his first big love affair. He’d even played with the notion of it being the last. But that was a long time ago already, and Ivan had gotten over it. His sister didn’t need to know that a couple of less serious meetings and one-night stands had occurred after that.

“Katyusha, I _am_ happy. I do not need to be in a relationship for that. I have you and Natasha, my friends, colleagues… I have enough going on in my life right now.” He sat down, smiling. “And I definitely do not need my sister to get me a date.”

She chuckled. “If you say so. Call grandfather sometime, okay? He has been asking about you.”

“I will, I will. Take care, sis.”

“You too. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The phone was turned off and put down on the table. Ivan opened up a jar of strawberry jam and began smearing it onto his pancake.

He definitely couldn’t blame Yekaterina for trying. She _was_ his older sister, after all. Not that his love life (or recent lack thereof) was any of her business besides the question of her wanting to be the first one to know if he ever got engaged. Which was not going to happen in a long time.

But he did remember what had happened. He remembered the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He remembered dates and hand-holding and stolen kisses in between classes. He also remembered the way it had ended; how he and his family had had to move, the fight about their future plans, the shouted accusations, and then finally, a single message. _We’re done talking about this_. It was over, just like that. The love of his life had ended their relationship over the phone, not even taking the effort to tell him face-to-face. They had been young and stupid at the time, Ivan sixteen, his love a year younger. That was over ten years ago.

In the present, Ivan tried enjoying his meal as he looked around the kitchen. It really was a tiny apartment, but he’d tried to make the best of it. Using light colours and careful planning to make the spaces seem larger and more open, wanting his home to be cosy and inviting. He’d lived here ever since moving out of his parents’ house. In that very living room he’d griped about countless failed job interviews and celebrated when he did manage to pin down an employment at the nearby flower shop. He still worked there, loving the atmosphere. That very living room had seen so many seasons come and go, family and friends passing through, neighbours coming over to borrow sugar or salt. So much had happened already, and so much was bound to continue to happen. A boyfriend? Not what he had in mind for the near future. He simply didn’t feel like going through all that right now.

After finishing up his breakfast, Ivan did the dishes, while the radio switched over to the news. It was a sunny day outside, save for a few clouds to be spotted in the bright sky. Which only made it slightly annoying when someone began drilling into the wall next doors.

Oh, right. Today was the day. Ivan was getting a new neighbour, after the last one got kicked out for smoking weed. They had been nice enough, if not for the penetrating smell constantly drafting out the door and windows. Ivan wondered what kind of defect his new neighbour would have; they all had something here. The old lady downstairs was rumoured to be a huge player on the black market (what she sold could only be speculated at), her neighbour was hiding a Great Dane (no pets allowed), and the two living at the upper level were constantly blasting heavy metal and classical music at each other. The new one had to have something wrong with them to fit in here.

Ivan hadn’t met them yet, but today was moving day, or so he’d been told. It was actually a little exciting, if only because it was new, a change of pace. Interesting.

Ivan did the dishes after finishing his meal and decided to go out for a bit. Not only was the weather quite nice outside, but he remembered he still had to buy a present for that party his sister was throwing, and he should also go buy a welcome gift for his new neighbour. If anything, Ivan was hospitable. Or at least, he tried to be.

The sun was shining and everyone was trying to get the most out of their weekend. Ivan found himself smiling at complete strangers, even though this seemed to make some of them a bit uncomfortable. It was simply that nice out, a gentle breeze caressing his cheeks, children playing, even the two policemen chasing after a troublemaker seeming to enjoy doing so. It felt like one of those days in which anything can happen.

Ivan went to the bookstore, hoping to find what he was looking for there. Upon entering he could see that he wasn’t the only customer present, but the long rows of books quickly diverted his attention away from whoever was currently walking behind the shelves.

This bookstore was his favourite; considerably small but with a table and two chairs in the back, a coffee machine always at the ready to serve hot beverages. The owner knew most of his customers by name, and always had an interesting factoid to share about every purchase that was made. Now that was exactly the kind of service that made you want to come back for more.

Ivan looked at the cookbooks (his sister loved baking), editions of gardening magazines, and even dared to sneak a peek at the new romance novels. Finding nothing useful in the latter selection, Ivan wanted to put away the last book he’d checked to go look elsewhere, but a cough behind him made it slip through his fingers. Ivan clacked his tongue when it slid to a halt right behind him, making him kneel down and do half a turn in order to retrieve the item. His brow furrowed when he found a pair of worn-out sneakers standing right beside the novel, probably the owner of the cough. This person was already bending over and had a hand outstretched to try and grab the fallen book as well, but something made them falter.

Ivan quickly put his hand on the cover and began looking up to offer an apologetic smile at whoever had tried to help him. His gaze lazily climbed up a nice pair of blue jeans, followed the tanned outstretched arm to a white t-shirt with a Superman logo in the middle. And then his eyes came to rest upon the other’s face.

He knew that face. He knew it very well.

Blue eyes, freckled nose, now with gold-rimmed spectacles. Eyebrows raised to form a comically shocked expression. There were also differences. A tiny scar that hadn’t been there before, cheeks less full, less round and boyish. He still had the same golden locks though, and the same piece of stubborn hair standing straight up. Alfred.

“Whoa… Ivan? Ivan Braginsky? Is that really you?”

Ivan blinked slowly, still kneeling down, trying to wrap his mind around Alfred’s sudden appearance. All kinds of emotions were welling up in him; surprise, a pang of excitement and then angry indignity, an immediate want to stand up and walk away without saying a single word to the man who had broken his heart, but also a need to prove himself to the other, prove that he was over it, that he was stronger now, wouldn’t be living in the past. And when that hand was extended further to try and help him up, a single thought. _Oh no, he’s hot now_. When first encountering that joke, he never could have guessed it would someday apply to his own life. Sure, he’d always found Alfred attractive, but now he looked like a movie star.

Ivan tried rising with as much dignity as he could muster, already painfully aware of how Alfred had quickly gained the upper hand in their very first meeting in years, also noting with satisfaction that the height discrepancy between them had only increased. He didn’t know how to react. A friendly smile or a cool glare? The first wasn’t what he wanted to offer, but the second was uncalled for, at least if he wanted to keep up appearances.

It was only when Alfred waved a hand in front of his eyes that he realised he had been gaping. Great. He was a teenager once again.

“It’s so weird running into you like this! You live in this neighbourhood? Man, I haven’t seen you since—“

“Since the day I moved,” Ivan said, and it was when a painful silence fell that he realised how pathetic that had sounded. _Oh no._ This was not at all how you showed your ex that you had moved on. He quickly straightened his back, book pressed to his chest, trying on a plastic smile.

“But never mind that. I did not expect running into you of all people either. How are you?” Good, his tone wasn’t too strained.

Alfred quickly jumped on the opening Ivan had created. “Oh, I’m doing just fine, thanks! It’s such a coincidence, right? You here to buy something?”

When Alfred tried reading the title of Ivan’s book, he quickly hid it behind his back, suddenly not wanting to be seen with a romance novel in his arms. “Well, that is usually what one does at bookstores.”

Alfred snorted. “Wow, dry humour much! That’s nothing like the awkwardly shy nerd I know and love.”

Despite his calm demeanour, Ivan felt a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “I will have you know that I am not the same person I used to be. Like you said, it has been ages. You would have known that had you stuck around longer.” _Shit_. He didn’t mean to say that. Why were his feelings suddenly slipping out like that? He didn’t even know he still harboured such animosity.

Alfred’s happy-go-lucky expression immediately fell, and Ivan saw a hard expression he wasn’t used to on that sunny face. Alfred had changed as well. Grown up was perhaps the best way to describe it.

“Oh. Right. Because _I’m_ the one that left without saying a word.”

Ivan’s gut froze. And there went their chance at reconciliation. They may both have changed, but some things stayed the same, no matter what.

When Ivan sent the other a glare to match his own, something buzzed between them, like a sudden wave of electricity. Alfred’s eyes widened ever so slightly before he closed them, lightly shaking his head. “Look, I didn’t say hi just to fight you, okay? I was honestly just surprised to see you, but if that’s the way you feel about me, then I’ll go. I won’t bother you anymore. Bye.”

And just like that, Alfred spun on his heels and walked away, exiting the store just as fast as he had re-entered Ivan’s life. Ivan was left behind, shell-shocked, wondering how such a good day could have turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

In the end he didn’t buy anything, too out of it to enjoy shopping. His mood only fell more on his way home, as the memories of that high school heartbreak came crashing in, skewing his state of mind. It was only when he arrived at the building and saw the moving van that he remembered the new neighbour. He didn’t feel like introducing himself. He just wanted a drink and some time to himself. Still, seeing as they lived in the apartment right next to him, he ought to at least show his face.

Ivan took in a deep breath to steel himself and went up to his floor. People were carrying cardboard boxes and pieces of furniture up the stairs, and someone could be heard shouting instructions at them. Someone he least wanted to hear right now.

Ivan’s expression must have been set to thunder when he arrived on his floor and found a man standing in the doorway of the no longer empty apartment. Their gazes met.

“Oh, you have _got_ to be fucking kidding me.”

It seemed like Alfred’s sudden arrival wasn’t just a one-shot kind of thing. He had come to stay.

Oh joy.


	2. Ghost of Boyfriend's Past

Unbelievable. Of all possible coincidences that could have occurred, it had to be this one. His new neighbour was Alfred F. Jones, high school sweetheart, his ex from more or less ten years ago. Of course it did explain how it could have possibly happened that the two of them ran into each other at the local bookstore after all these years of silence. It would have been a funny situation under different circumstances.

The agitated look on Alfred’s face told Ivan that he too wasn’t exactly happy about the scene currently playing out. Understandable, if you took into consideration how Ivan had reacted to first seeing him again. He was both ashamed of his childish behaviour and exasperated that fate had made use of his negative emotions to make this lovely mess happen. How nice of it.

Alfred sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Okay…okay. Let’s just, I don’t know, start over. Because it seems like we’re gonna be stuck with each other for a while.”

Ivan immediately felt his ire rise. Start over? Pretend like nothing had happened? Simply erase all those years of heartache?

Still, as he observed the other’s pleading look—Alfred was barely keeping himself from putting on that kicked puppy expression Ivan had had the joy to witness countless times in the past—, something clicked inside his brain. Ivan straightened his back and put on the smile he usually reserved for difficult customers.

“I think that would be a wise decision.” _Even though I can still remember what your deodorant used to smell like and what your favourite food is and how your eyes would light up when talking about your plans for the future._ “One moment, please.”

Alfred raised his eyebrows quizzically when Ivan walked past him, moving into his own apartment, closing the door behind him. Before Alfred could come over to ask him what the deal was, Ivan re-emerged, now coatless and his shoes exchanged for loafers.

“Ah, good afternoon. You must be my new neighbour! Ivan Braginsky, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Alfred looked perplexed for just a moment before taking the hint and grabbing Ivan’s outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake (just like Ivan remembered it to be, although the other’s hand was a little more robust now).

“Alfred Foster Jones, pleasure’s all mine! I look forward to our partnership—I mean, to us being neighbours.” Both of their grips tightened for a moment, as if trying to decide who was the strongest, but they let go before it could turn into a full-on contest.

Alfred scratched his cheek as he took a step back, looking Ivan up and down. Feeling self-conscious about the other’s scrutiny, Ivan crossed his arms in front of his chest, but didn’t move a muscle otherwise, not wanting to look like a coward when confronted with his ex.

Alfred whistled, before seeming to remember that he and Ivan weren’t exactly on good terms. “I have to say, I just can’t believe that you grew even taller. Though you’re not as clumsy-looking as before.”

“Ah-ah,” Ivan said, wagging a finger. “We are strangers to each other, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Alfred frowned. “And you really wanna keep that up the entire time? It’s gonna be difficult to constantly remind myself that I’m not supposed to know anything about you.”

 _And whose fault is that_? “While it is refreshing to see that your mental capacities have not changed at all, that is kind of the point of starting over.”

Alfred scowled up at him. “Ouch, that was uncalled for. I don’t remember you calling me dumb when I tried picking you up bridal style.” His eyes glinted mischievously. “In fact, I bet I can still do that.”

Ivan took a step back, cool glare holding a warning. “You wouldn’t dare.”

But he did. Dare, that was, as he tried to pick Ivan up without warning. Not a moment later, Alfred was sitting on the floor, hands over his face.

“What the fuck man, you didn’t have to elbow me in the forehead! Shit!”

Ivan, red in the face, instantly felt bad, but his tone was miffed. “Then what were you thinking? It is not because you _can_ pick people up that you _should_. You have always been act first, think later, and this is what comes from it.”

Alfred was muttering angrily under his breath, and Ivan finally sighed. “One moment.” One of them had to act like an adult in this situation.

“One moment for what, another punch?” But Ivan had already disappeared. A couple of heartbeats later he came back with an ice pack.

“Here, hold that to your face.”

Despite still being quite mad, Alfred accepted the ice and pressed it to his forehead, immediately feeling relief at the cold touch. Both of them were quiet for a moment, the people from the moving van still continuing to carry boxes into Alfred’s apartment.

Ivan rubbed his temples. “All right, fine. Since your own apartment is not ready yet, you can come in.”

Alfred briefly removed the ice, looking up owlishly.

Ivan narrowed his eyes at him. “Only because I feel bad about hitting you. And because we do have to be neighbours.” He stepped inside. “Come. I will make tea.”

Alfred hesitated for but a moment before scrambling up and following after him, pain already forgotten. “Sure you don’t have any coffee?” he asked, more teasingly now.

Alfred took his time to look around while Ivan tended to drinks. “It’s like stepping back in time. You really haven’t changed a bit.”

Ivan frowned, but his back was turned to Alfred, so the other didn’t notice his annoyance.

“Though there’s less math posters. Not as much of a nerd now, huh?”

“And I take it your bedroom will be filled with Marvel pictures, then?” Ivan asked sarcastically, but the following silence told him that he had been correct. Ivan looked over his shoulder. “At least I came out for being a nerd. You had to be the jock who only became a nerd once he got home.”

Alfred was actually blushing. Good. He had _some_ sense of self-awareness.

“At least I didn’t hide the fact I was gay when people asked,” Alfred mumbled.

Ivan slammed down the teapot. “At least I am not the one who ended our relationship through a text message!”

The room went deadly silent, the only sound to be heard coming from his grandfather clock. Ivan’s hands were shaking, so he placed them on the counter, palms flat. There. He had finally said it. Now Alfred knew exactly why Ivan was so furious with him, why he was not looking forward to living next to him, and why he did not want to be reminded of their teenage years together.

He did not want to remember their first kiss, both of them wearing braces, nervously clanging together, which lead to them waiting several weeks before trying again. He did not want to be reminded of the times they went stargazing together, on top of the hill, seated on a red-and-white checkered picnic blanket. Their dates at the ice cream parlour, laughing about the shared threats they received from the other’s sibling. The secret Valentine notes, even though Valentine had already passed. The sleepovers, both of them nervous as hell, until they promised each other not to do anything until they were completely ready. Alfred laughing, his gaze overflowing with excitement every time he looked at Ivan. How proud Ivan had felt, getting to call Alfred his boyfriend. The happiness.

Alfred hadn’t said anything yet, so after taking a few steadying breaths, Ivan turned around, back straight, hands gripping the counter behind him. Alfred was staring right at him from his position on the couch, dumbfounded.

“I have literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ivan’s stomach churned painfully. “The message,” he growled, “you sent me a message telling me we were done!”

Alfred slowly shook his head. “That’s not at all how I remember it.”

Ivan ground his teeth. “Fine. Then how _do_ you remember it?”

Now it was Alfred’s turn to look angry, even though the effect was diminished with the ice still being held to his sore skin. “All I know is that you left without even saying goodbye, and after that I never hear from you again! _You_ were the one to break it off!”

Ivan blinked rapidly, resisting the urge to stomp his foot. What was Alfred talking about? “No,” he insisted, knowing he was right. “It was you. We had a fight before moving day, and then you sent me a text message, saying we were done. That there was nothing left to talk about.”

Ivan could nearly hear the gears grinding in Alfred’s head as he tried to recall that specific day, which only made Ivan even more mad. That day was forever burnt into his mind, and Alfred had the gut to forget? Despicable.

Something began to dawn to Alfred; Ivan could see it in his deepening frown, eyes beginning to shimmer with comprehension.

“Wait, I’m onto something… Are you talking about that message I sent you to say that I didn’t want to fight anymore?”

“You sent no such message,” Ivan hissed, but Alfred continued.

“Yeah… We did have a fight that day! But I figured, since it was the last day before you moved, that we shouldn’t spend it fighting. So I sent you a message to tell you that.”

Wait a minute. Hang on. It couldn’t be true.

Ivan felt his body quiver but tried not to show his sudden anxiety. “That message. Tell me exactly what you said in it.”

Alfred huffed. “Hell if I know, it’s been a decade! Probably something along the lines of ‘we’re done fighting’.”

“ _We’re done talking about this_ ,” Ivan whispered, as he too was hit with understanding. Only, for him, it was much less a relief than it was a punch in the gut.

“Oh yeah, that must’ve been it!” Alfred nodded, then his eyes widened. “Wait. _Wait_. Did you think I meant I didn’t want to talk to you again? _Really_? Was that why you never replied and just up and went?”

The room was spinning. Ivan gripped the counter even tighter, having it ground him to reality. A misunderstanding. Ten years. All because of a misunderstanding.

Alfred was laughing, though it sounded more upset than joyful. “No way. You thought I was breaking up with you? After everything that happened? Just because of a fight?”

“Because I was moving,” Ivan hurried to explain himself, feeling nauseous. This couldn’t be happening. “Because it would be hard anyway to keep a relationship going over that distance.”

Alfred was standing up now, looking alarmed. “We could have made it work! I was totally ready to make it work! And you thought—you _seriously_ thought… So that’s why you never texted back? That’s why you just straight-up disappeared? Why didn’t you even try to talk to me after that?”

Ivan shrugged stubbornly, feeling like everything he knew about the world was slipping from his grasp. This couldn’t be happening. No way. “You did not try to contact me either,” he weakly protested, but Alfred stomped his foot (he had always been much more childish than Ivan, or at least, that was what Ivan had always tried to prove to himself).

“The day you were moving, I tried to visit you by bike _because_ you still hadn’t answered! And then I fall and break my phone, and when I get to your place it turns out you’ve already left, and you didn’t even say goodbye to me!”

“Your…your phone broke?” Ivan asked. Oh no.

“Yeah!” Alfred growled. “And naturally I was dumb enough not to save my phone numbers anywhere, but I thought you’d at least send me a message back so I could have yours again, because I didn’t know we were apparently already over and done with! Because stupid insecure Ivan has to take the first chance he gets at breaking up with me and then leaving forever!”

Ivan finally mustered a glare. “If you really knew I was that insecure, you should not have sent a message, you should have visited me in person, or at least called.”

“My battery was almost dead, and I didn’t want my parents to hear us talk, and well, I was still kinda mad too! You weren’t the only one entitled to emotions in our relationship.”

Ivan groaned miserably, burying his face in his hands. He couldn’t believe this. It really had been a misunderstanding. A very stupid one at that, now that he looked back at it. But he was a teenager back then, and indeed an insecure one. How else could he have interpreted that message, on the night before he was to move away forever?

A rustle, footsteps. Ivan peered through his fingers, finding Alfred standing a couple of steps away from him, his expression unreadable.

“So we seriously broke up over a misunderstanding? Not because you were suddenly tired of me, or realised that I wasn’t worth the trouble?”

“Of course I was never tired of you!” Ivan snapped back at him, hands balled to fists by his sides. But when Alfred took another step closer, he caught on to the hidden meaning behind those words.

Ivan shook his head. “Oh no. Do not take another step, Alfred.” _Alfred_. How long it had been for that name to roll off his tongue. Alfred seemed to think the same, visibly shuddering. Ivan tried to straighten up even more, tried desperately to ignore the sudden glint of hope in Alfred’s features.

“Alfred, no. Too much has happened. You may not have meant for it to happen, but you broke my heart.”

“You broke mine too,” Alfred softly interjected, but Ivan could not be stopped.

“ _It has been ten years_. We are different people now!”

“I know.” He took another step.

Ivan defensively held up his hands, scowling. “Everything is not suddenly better between us because we know the truth! For ten years I have been mad at you for—“

“Really? You didn’t just forget about me?”

Ivan spluttered, suddenly didn’t know what to say, fell silent.

Alfred took another step, smiling hesitantly, but keeping his hands to himself. “Hey, I feel exactly the same. Can’t just erase ten years of history, you know? I just wanted to say…” And there was that grin, the blinding one, that which Ivan may have missed most of all. “Let’s just try to get to know each other from scratch. Now that we know what really happened. Start over. Not as in, a couple or anything, but just as neighbours. I guess what I’m trying to say is…” He held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, neighbour. I look forward to getting to know you.”

Ivan warily eyed the hand, still not fully trusting the other’s intentions. He may have been right about the both of them changing, but he couldn’t possibly know how much. And if there was one thing he knew about teenage Alfred, it was that he liked to scheme. And Ivan really wasn’t ready to forgive Alfred, not even if it had all been a misunderstanding. And yet…

Ivan finally let out a beleaguered sigh, shoulders slumping. He once more took the hand.

“All right. Let us begin anew, as strangers. And I mean that, so no more unprompted talking about the past.”

Alfred excitedly nodded his head. “Deal! I’ll try my hardest!”

And again their handshake lingered, though Ivan couldn’t quite figure out for which sentiments. He only understood that he was about to get himself into a whole lot of trouble. Hopefully it was worth it.


	3. The Boy Next Door

Ivan opened up his locker, letting out a tired sigh. The day had crept by at a snail’s pace, leaving everyone drained and longing for the weekend. Two days of sweet nothingness.

Ivan had just been thinking about the cake he’d promised his sister he would help her bake when he noticed a small note stuck to the cover of the book he had been about to take from his locker. A post-it note; probably something he had forgotten to throw away. However, upon closer examination, Ivan’s cheeks coloured. Not just a post-it note. What seemed to be a miniature version of a love letter.

_Happy Valentine, want to go out for ice cream?_

_A.J._

Ivan’s heart skipped a beat. A love letter. Seriously? For him? At first he thought it must have been a mistake, that this note was meant for someone else. But his name was written very clearly on the book, and all the people that mattered knew this was _his_ locker, no one else’s.

His overgrown form stood hunched over his locker, shielding its contents from sight. He nervously pulled at the frayed edges of his hand-knit scarf. What if it _was_ for him? Then who…?

He stared at the initials. A.J. Who could it be? Anna, from class C3? But her last name was Smith, nothing with a J. There were none he could think of. No girls at all. Unless…

Unless it wasn’t a girl.

Ivan’s back snapped straight as he slammed his locker shut. A hand was brought up to cover his mouth, note crumpled in the other. It couldn’t be. There was someone he knew that had the initials A and J. Someone he’d been sending secretive glances at whenever he had the chance for the past few months. _No way_.

* * *

Ivan’s eyes flew open as he shot awake, having had the strange sensation of falling. His heart was beating wildly because of the imagined threat, and he had to lie there for a while to calm it down again. Just a dream. A memory, nothing more. An exciting one, sure, but that was long in the past.

And then it dawned on him. The past had caught up to him. In fact, it was currently living in the previously empty apartment right next to him. Once again invading his life.

Ivan placed a hand on his chest, willing his heart to slow down. _Stop it. You are an adult now. Act like one_. With an almost angry gesture he threw back the covers, planning on simply concentrating on other things. Despite it being a Sunday, he had enough to do. A bit of cleaning, there was that email to his grandfather he’d been postponing (he always did, opting for big information dumps over tiny emails containing only idle chitchat). A long walk in the park would do him good, especially if the weather was equally as gentle as it had been the day before.

Walking through his room to open the window, he could hear a loud bonk coming from the other apartment. _He_ was awake as well, it seemed. Ivan had no clue what he could be doing that made that kind of noise, at this hour in the morning. However, before allowing himself to linger on the thought, he moved to the bathroom for a quick shower, not wanting every unoccupied moment to be devoted to Alfred. He had managed to get by for more than ten years, he would continue to get by for the next.

Of course, it didn’t help that the first person Ivan saw when leaving his apartment after another hour or so, had to be Alfred, leaning over to look deep inside his mailbox. Hearing Ivan’s heavy footsteps, that golden head turned, a brilliant smile immediately forming.

“Morning, big guy!”

The nickname came almost too easy. It gave Ivan chills. Not that he showed it, feigning an air of professionality instead.

“Good morning, neighbour. You are up early.”

Alfred chuckled, dragging a hand through his hair (it was slightly wet; he’d taken a shower as well). “Yup. I don’t sleep in that often anymore nowadays. Too much going on.”

Ivan hummed in acknowledgement as he checked his own mail. “That reminds me, you never told me where you work.”

“Neither did you,” Alfred laughed, before continuing. “I got a new part-time job as a physics teacher at the local high school, which is why I moved here. And when I’m not doing that, I work as a personal trainer at the gym one town over.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow. “Two jobs? You used to be unable to keep even one.”

Alfred huffed. “It’s not my fault I got fired! I was good at what I did, and would’ve probably continued to work there until graduation.”

“You yelled at a customer,” Ivan reminded him, voice sugary sweet.

“I only called them out on their bullshit! Can I help it that our customers were racist scumbags?”

“Language,” Ivan said, when their eldest neighbour emerged from their apartment.

Both men gave a greeting as she smiled at them, “Good morning boys. Ivan, I don’t believe I’ve met your friend?”

_He’s not my friend_ was the first sentence on his tongue, but he swallowed it down when feeling Alfred’s piercing eyes upon him. “This is the new neighbour, Mrs. Morgan. His name is Alfred.”

Alfred stepped towards her, already holding out his hand. She shook it, laughing. “Hello, hello! My, what a strong handshake.”

“I could say the same about you. Colour me impressed!”

Ivan sent Alfred a warning glare, but the elderly woman only laughed. “Delightful! You’ll make a fine addition. Now boys, could you step aside for a moment? I’m going out for coffee.”

Alfred automatically stepped aside, but in doing so, moved back into Ivan’s personal space. Not that Ivan usually cared much who are what was near him, but given their history, it was enough to make him snap taut, looking more like a wooden figure than a human being as they waited for Mrs. Morgan from downstairs to exit the tiny hallway.

Ivan’s breath caught when he felt Alfred’s back against his chest. He probably didn’t do it on purpose, but he didn’t move away either, even though he _had_ to be aware they were touching. It had been quite some years since Ivan had felt self-conscious about his body, but how could he not be hyperaware of every muscle at this very moment?

Ivan held his breath for as long as necessary. He swore Alfred leant into him for just a small moment before moving away. To what purpose, Ivan wasn’t so sure of. He also wasn’t sure why he was trying to memorise the feeling of Alfred against him, his warmth, mind inevitably flashing back to when he had embraced the other, arms fitting neatly all around, resting at the small of his back.

“She seems nice! I should go introduce myself to the other neighbours as well. Uh…care to come with? It’s always easier when there’s someone who already—“

“I am afraid I was just moving out,” Ivan said with a slightly strained voice as he regained his breath, looking down at Alfred with what he hoped was a neutral expression. Being civil to him or not, Ivan didn’t think he could keep up with this much Alfred in the span of only two days, let alone for however long they would be neighbours after this. Maybe he should move. Or maybe he should see a therapist, someone who could help him to see Alfred as just another person, not someone he used to love. Someone who was looking up at him with what could only be described as a pout, before quickly changing it into a confident smile.

“Oh, okay. No problem. Shall I wait for you to return? At what time do you think you’ll be here?”

Why was Alfred doing this? He had to know he wasn’t making things any easier. Ivan sent a longing glance at the door. “I really do not know how long it will take me to—“

“No problem!” Alfred interrupted him, as if hoping to change his mind if he simply kept pushing. “I can wait! I’ll uh…oh! I’ll bake some cookies to hand out! That way they’ll be sure to like me.”

“You bake?” Ivan asked, successfully distracted.

Alfred’s smile was exchanged for an excited grin. “Yep! I mean, my brother does most of it, but he taught me a thing or two. And now I manage not to burn them every time! Though my last experiment didn’t go as well; I tried making a giant cookie but our oven didn’t wanna hear about it.”

Ivan’s stomach churned. He almost pitied Alfred’s kitchen. Which was in the apartment right next to his. If it caught on fire, Ivan would be the first to know. It was his responsibility to…

Ivan moved his weight from one foot to the other. It was as if Alfred could smell his hesitation, because he suddenly moved in for the finishing blow. “Hey. Care to join me? I’ll let you decide on the taste. You can make ‘em as Russian as possible.”

“And what would Russian cookies be like?” Ivan asked, feeling his hesitation slip away to make room for amusement. It was indeed his responsibility to keep them all safe, both from the possibility of a fire breaking out and food poisoning.

Alfred laughed as if he had won the jackpot. As if Ivan had walked right into his trap. “I don’t know, vodka-flavoured? So you’ll come?”

Ivan sighed deeply. He had to be out of his mind. “Fine. I will. But I have to get to the store first.”

“Great!” Alfred yapped, flashing two thumbs-up. “Want me to come with, or should I get everything ready for when you come back?”

“The second one,” Ivan said hurriedly. He needed some time alone, to think. And to question his choices in life. “I will see you soon.”

“Have a safe trip!” Alfred laughed, giving a sort of salute before rushing up the stairs. Was it really the promise of baked goods that got him all worked up, or was it perhaps the fact that it would involve Ivan? Which was nonsense. You couldn’t go from hating someone to wanting to spend as much time together with them as possible from one day to the next. Could you?

Ivan tried to think of something else as he made a quick trip to the store. Maybe he could fake an accident to get out of the deal. Not that he really wanted that. Well, he didn’t _want_ to spend this much time with Alfred, not after all that had happened, but for some reason, he also…did? Or at least, the thought made him nervous, but perhaps not for the right reasons. More of the, “I am happy that I showered this morning”, and “Should I have worn a different shirt today?” variant. Which was absurd. They were only baking cookies together. Ivan reasoned with himself that he only wanted to look like the kind of person that had gotten over a past heartbreak. Someone for an ex to be jealous of, in that they were able to move on that much better than you. That had to be it.

While in the store, he got a text message from his sister. _Sure you don’t want that date_? Hah. If she knew who he was going to spend the day with, she probably wouldn’t believe it. Which reminded Ivan that he should probably tell her. Not that he really wanted to.

A quick run to the store later, Ivan was once again back in their building, climbing the stairs to his floor. His stomach felt queasy, like it always used to do right before a presentation or oral exam. As if Alfred was going to grade him on this visit. Ivan knocked.

Almost immediately the door opened, giving Ivan the strange feeling that Alfred had been waiting right beside it, like a dog wanting for its master to come home. “Good, you made it!”

“It was not hard to find,” Ivan said dryly, making the other laugh. He held up a plastic bag. “I did not know what ingredients you still had, so I brought extras.”

Alfred’s eyes shimmered. “Great! Thanks a lot buddy, you’re a big help.”

It was only when Alfred all but fled inside that something seemed to click in Ivan’s mind. Something about Alfred’s behaviour had made him question if there was ever going to be an end to that undying energy, that optimism, but now he saw it in a new light. Perhaps Ivan wasn’t the only one nervous about rekindling past connections. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one whose facial muscles were actually beginning to hurt with how much he forced them into neutral expressions or polite smiles.

Ivan followed after Alfred, only half hearing his constant blabbering as he quickly took in his surroundings. The place looked almost painfully normal, if only a bit messy (and that after only one day of living here). There were several gaming systems piled on top of each other next to a sizeable television set, big posters with comic book heroes on them hanging from the walls, a cabinet with one row of books and several rows of games and movies. Both familiar and oh so alien.

“I’m so looking forward to meeting everyone! I was good friends with my neighbours at the old place, of course, but it’s always nice to get to know new people.”

Alfred still desired to be liked, it seemed. Even back at school that golden boy had always found himself surrounded by friends, never a moment alone. Which is why Ivan had never gathered the courage to approach him. Which is why it had almost given him a heart attack when Alfred approached _him_ instead.

When Ivan entered Alfred’s kitchen (which looked almost identical to Ivan’s, down to the giant fridge, seeing as these apartments came with built-in kitchens), he was surprised to find a kettle with tea and two cups already waiting.

“You like Earl Grey, right? Sorry, I know you like the herby or sweet stuff the most, but this is all I had. I drink mostly coffee, you see.”

“Earl Grey is fine,” Ivan mumbled, setting down the bag with groceries. “If you prefer coffee that is fine, do not worry about me.”

“But it’s not a problem, not at all!” Alfred insisted, almost burning his fingers as he went to pour out the boiling water. “I have tea so I should use it. Especially when guests come over. You’re my first guest by the way, so uh, welcome! What do you think of the place?”

Ivan sat down, saying a small thanks as a cup was placed in front of him. In just one moment he saw a younger Alfred again, back when he had tried being a barista for a couple of Saturdays. That place had both been perfect and the worst, both because Alfred was charismatic and because he was always ready to state his opinion. Service with a smile, until someone with clashing opinions entered the scene.

“It is nice. Looks lived in. Perhaps a little bit too lived in.”

Alfred awkwardly scratched at his neck. “Oh, you noticed. Yeah, I didn’t feel like cleaning up right away, and I was kinda throwing things left and right when trying to decide what should go where… It’s not usually like this though, I promise.” It almost sounded like Alfred was planning future invitations.

“We’ll see,” Ivan mumbled to himself, before speaking up. “You know, you do not have to force yourself to do this.”

Alfred had been grabbing a big bowl to make dough in, but his head immediately snapped back upon hearing Ivan’s question. “Do what? Be nice to you? Because, and I don’t want to brag, I’m a nice person in general, you know.” His smile was both big and a bit alarmed.

Ivan shook his head. “No, I mean… This. Acting like it is not affecting you. Like you have everything under control, when you don’t.” Yes, Alfred had always liked being surrounded by big groups of people. But Alfred had also shared a secret with Ivan, that, even when being acquainted to such vast numbers of peers, Alfred had difficulty making intimate connections. That, even though he had quantity, it had always been a struggle for quality.

Alfred’s shoulders slumped, his expression temporarily hardening. “Haven’t you been doing exactly the same?”

Ivan felt a shiver ripple through his body. Alfred had always been more perceptive than people gave him credit for. “Apparently I am not as good at hiding it as you are.”

Alfred smiled again, more tiredly this time. “You are. I was just making a guess.”

He sat down in front of Ivan, worrying his lower lip. “Look, if I have to choose between us being hostile or cold towards each other or me putting in an extra effort for us to get along, I’d rather have the second, okay? It’ll be both easier if we could get along, and…and more fun.” He looked up, suddenly seeming much more fragile, putting himself out there for the both of them. Ivan didn’t really know what he had in mind for them—close neighbours? Friends? Perhaps even a renewed romantic connection?—but he did know that he too preferred the second.

He smiled, much more warmly this time. “All right. I will try to do my best as well. Although I have to warn you, our neighbours are not the kind of people to sit down for tea once a week.”

Alfred narrowed his eyes. “Is that a challenge I hear? Because I wanna bet that after I’m through with them, they _will_ be.”

Ivan laughed. “Now that, I would like to see.”

At the end of the day, baking cookies together was a lot more fun than Ivan had initially expected it to be. They talked a lot about unimportant business, both keeping to their own side of the kitchen, as if even Alfred had come to understand that there was such a thing as too much for one day.

And at the very end, Ivan was perplexed to find that Alfred managed to put a smile to everyone’s faces, even the ones who spent their days fighting with each other. Alfred still had it. Maybe even more of it than his teenage self did.


	4. Begin Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been provided to you by my gratitude for derevosky’s fanart for this fic! (You can find it on tumblr, derevoskymusor.) Dere has both made beautiful art of my scenes and art that inspired me to include certain passages or sentences. So thank you for your undying enthusiasm!

Ivan Braginsky, age fifteen, wearing a pair of hand-me-down glasses, always slouching and picking oversized sweaters to hide the results of awkward growth spurts, sporting braces and borrowing facial cream from his older sister to try and get rid of those pesky zits. The very same Ivan who was currently out in the courtyard, staring from his phone to the backside of the Valentine’s note he’d found in his locker earlier, already memorising the phone number quickly jotted down there despite knowing he’d never conjure up the courage to actually use it.

Ivan still thought it to be quite unbelievable that Alfred had sent _him_ a note, not the other way around (not that that would have ever happened). That Alfred had noticed _him_ , and apparently, for whatever reason, deemed him good enough for a date. Him, Ivan Braginsky, the nerd, too tall to be bullied, but lacking a group of friends the size of Alfred’s because of his studiousness and social inaptness. In fact, the only person he hung out with on a daily basis was Yao Wang, a senior who was far too busy keeping watch over his younger siblings to keep up with his schoolwork. Ivan helped the boy with his science homework, Yao shared some of his lunch with him. It was a good deal, one both felt comfortable with.

Ivan did not feel comfortable, however, thinking about sending Alfred a text message, or worse, giving him a call. Alfred, the golden boy, a popular jock whom puberty was much kinder on than it had been on Ivan. Perfectly messy golden locks, well-trained muscles he obtained from the many sports Ivan supposed he practised (he had been to a few of the other’s baseball games but didn’t dare show up more often in fear of being noticed). Alfred did wear braces, but his smile was so blinding that hardly anyone noticed. Perhaps a little round in the face, youthfully boyish, a little squinty-eyed when you were too far away (maybe Ivan should offer him his glasses). But in Ivan’s eyes, perfect boyfriend material. Or at least, boy-to-stare-at material.

Ivan sighed, frustrated with himself. Here was the perfect opportunity to finally gap the bridge between dream and reality, to actually talk to his crush in the flesh instead of merely fantasising about it. And here Ivan was, finding himself freezing at the mere suggestion. He couldn’t do it. It was too much, too sudden. He couldn’t take this first step.

Ivan ground his teeth, shoving the note into his pocket. At least he had that as a memento, Alfred’s scribbly handwriting immortalised on paper. At least he didn’t embarrass himself.

“Ivan!”

Ivan felt himself jolt upon hearing his name. No. It couldn’t be true.

Jerkily turning around, eyes wide behind his glasses, only to see none other than Alfred F. Jones sprinting towards him, waving frantically. He was wearing his jersey from the baseball team, as if he’d been on his way to practice.

Ivan couldn’t move, even though he very much wanted to. All he could do was stare, waiting for Alfred to skid to a halt right in front of him, suddenly much, much too close.

Alfred looked up at him, beaming, lower lip disappearing between his teeth for just a moment (making him look ever so endearing, especially with the flushed cheeks from all that running).

“Thank God, I managed to find you before you left school!”

Ivan blinked, perfectly stupefied. Was he supposed to say something now? Was this even really happening? Perhaps he would wake up in a couple of minutes to find out it was only a dream.

Alfred dragged a hand through his hair, further messing up the locks. His smile turned more shy, tentative. “So uh, did you…did you get it? The note, I mean.”

Ivan mutely bobbed his head up and down, continuing to stare.

Alfred cheeks coloured a darker red, and for some reason, Ivan doubted it was still from the exercise, his heart stuttering at the mere implication that Alfred could possibly be nervous to talk to him.

Alfred blinked rapidly, somehow reminding Ivan of a puppy. Golden retriever, most likely.

“Well…? Would you like to, I mean, I get it if you’re not interested, but I thought, since it’s Valentine’s, and I kinda always thought, well, I mean—“

Ivan spoke up hesitantly. “Why are you asking me out?”

The bluntness of that question made the both of them cringe. Ivan pulled at his scarf, suddenly being far too hot. This was not a way to talk to your crush. Especially not when they were going out of their way to talk to _you_ , standing oh so close, so jittery they were practically tap-dancing.

“I mean…“ Alfred swallowed, as if he didn’t know the answer to that.

For a moment, Ivan felt his heart sink down into his stomach. This wasn’t exactly going well, was it? Maybe he had scared Alfred away. Maybe Alfred had just asked him out of kindness, not because he actually _liked_ Ivan or anything.

Alfred took in a deep breath, and Ivan steeled himself. He could take it. Whatever may come next.

“So-I-kinda-wanted-to-ask-you-out-a-long-time-ago-because-I-think-you’re-really-cute-and-smart-and-I-admire-you-but-I-never-had-the-courage-before-today-so-would-you-please-go-on-a-date-with-me-it’s-okay-if-you-don’t-wanna-eat-ice cream-we-could-do-anything-you’d-like.”

All of that was said in a single breath, making it so that Ivan had to take a moment to let it all sink in. When it did, he found himself retreating into his scarf like a turtle, as if he could possibly make himself look smaller.

“You like me? Really?” His voice was much muffled, but still audible.

Alfred nodded, lips pursed tightly, as if the breath had been knocked clean out of him and he would explode if he spoke another word.

Ivan locked eyes with the tips of his worn-out sneakers. His mind was racing, questions of how and why and _when_ fighting to have their time under the spotlights. But he did know that, even if this was too good to be a dream, there was only one possible answer he could give. Even if it ended up killing him. Even if after this, he would have to move states if he ever wanted to outlive the embarrassment.

Ivan’s voice was barely audible, but Alfred heard it all right.

“O-okay.”

* * *

Ivan Braginsky, age twenty-five. Body having caught up to his height, he carried himself with much more dignity, broad shoulders squared, even though he still had a love for sweaters and pullovers, turtlenecks being among his favourites. He only needed his glasses for reading now, and had long since exchanged the hand-me-downs for a much smaller and more refined pair. No more zits, instead small sideburns and a stubble he shaved on a daily basis. The braces had done their job. He still called Yao Wang on the phone every now and then, but other than a couple of friends he saw every once in a while (and the occasional phone calls and emails to siblings and other family members), it was mostly his neighbours and colleague he spent time with.

“ _Bonjour ma chère mademoiselle, bienvenue_!”

Ivan Braginsky, age twenty-five, currently arranging flowers with an expertise one would not deem someone his built capable of. And at the counter, Francis Bonnefoy, nearly charming the pants off of every single customer, no matter which gender.

“Thank you, come again!” the flamboyant Frenchman said in a sing-song voice, waiting for the last remaining customer to leave the flower shop before turning back to Ivan.

“Let us go back to what we were discussing before the interruption. Your ex moved into the apartment next to yours?”

Ivan nodded gravely, drying his hands after handling all those flowers. “Yes. He is the very last person I had expected to see. The president would have made more sense!”

Francis pulled a face, quickly making a tiny cross as if warding off evil spirits. Ivan sent him an apologetic smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“And now it turns out we broke up over a misunderstanding, and he wants to get to know me again, and—“

“He does?” Francis asked, eyebrow raised.

Ivan frowned at him. “I know what you are thinking, but rekindling our past relationship is out of the question, so you can forget all about it.”

Francis chuckled, raising his hands in defeat. “I never said you had to start again with the relationship you already had. I am simply surprised to hear you speak so passionately of someone. It’s a rare occurrence.”

“Only because he gets on my nerves,” Ivan grumbled, ignoring Francis’ smug smirk.

Francis pressed on. “No, going back to what you once had would be the most idiotic thing you two could do.”

“Exactly! Because he and I are not—“

“—the same persons anymore.”

Ivan paused, staring blankly at Francis. How did the other know what he had said?

Seeing Ivan’s confusion, Francis elaborated. “You could never have what you once had, because your teenage selves can never be the same as the people you are today. But that doesn’t mean your current selves are unquestionably incompatible. Alfred wants to get to know the new you? Good. That means he changed, perhaps even matured.” Francis’ eyes twinkled mischievously as he clasped Ivan’s shoulder. “Ivan, are you sure it isn’t _you_ who is stuck in the past instead?”

* * *

Francis’ words were still echoing through Ivan’s mind when he came home that evening. It wasn’t his fault he was hung up on the past. Forgive and forget is much easier said than done. Still, Francis might have a point. If Ivan truly wanted to be the better person, maybe he should start acting the part. Or living it, as he truly wanted to move on. Maybe getting to know the new Alfred would help cure past aches.

Ivan didn’t encounter Alfred in the hallway this time, gratefully entering his own apartment. He was going to cook something special for himself tonight, one of his favourite stews. It had a long cooking time, so he wanted to start early lest he’d only eat at midnight.

When taking a quick bathroom break, he could hear Alfred showering in the room next-door. Or, more precisely, he could hear Alfred’s singing voice as it rose above the streaming water. It wasn’t exactly refined or technically correct, but oh so full of life, Alfred clearly enjoying the song he was belting out. Ivan did make a mental note not to take showers at the same time as Alfred, deeming that too intimate, but the song managed to put him in a better mood. In fact, he was whistling the exact same notes to himself while chopping up vegetables a few moments later.

After a couple of minutes the stew was cooking away slowly, leaving Ivan with nothing left to do. He’d made a huge pot, making it so that he could enjoy the stew again if he put a couple of boxes in the freezer.

Ivan sat down in his couch, ready for some relaxing with a good book. However, he soon found it much too quiet, and put on the TV to watch a program instead. When nothing caught his interest, he turned it back off, thinking about perhaps picking out a movie or turning on the radio. Or calling his sister. Maybe it was company he craved more than sound.

Ivan’s fingers drummed on the armrest as his gaze trailed to the wall. He wondered what Alfred was doing now. Despite everything he said, about how they both had changed, he realised he still saw Alfred as the teenager he had once known. When in fact, he couldn’t possibly know anything about the adult Alfred. Sure, he’d guessed right when it came to the Marvel posters. But surely plenty of things would have changed.

Did Alfred still like those colourful sugary sprinkles on his ice cream? Did he still prefer the action and adventure genres over drama? Did he still go all out for Halloween, despite being much too old for the holiday? And what about his love for junk food? How he could eat an entire pizza all by himself and have room for dessert? His goofy dancing? Nights at the arcade? Did he still dream of becoming an astronaut one day? Did he still want to gift Ivan the moon?

Ivan shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts. There was absolutely no use in simply wondering about a man living close enough for him to just walk over to and visit. In fact, that was exactly what he was going to do. He was old enough to look for company if he desired it, instead of holing up in his room and biding his time until that sense of loneliness passed away.

Ivan marched to his door, determined, ready to swing it open. Before he could though, there was a sudden knock. Ivan’s confident step faltered, slipping to a halt. He carefully opened his front door, curiously peeking outside.

Alfred smiled up at him, looking flustered over something. “Evening, neighbour! So uh, I went a little overboard buying ice cream, you know, because of the hot weather and everything, but now I have too much to fit into the freezer, so I was wondering if maybe you’d like to help me eat it? I have two boxes left, so that would make one each…”

Ice cream. Their very first date. Did Alfred remember?

Ivan automatically wanted to turn him down, but remembered at the last moment what he had been about to do. Hesitated.

“Well…now that you mention it, I was making stew for tonight. A big pot. So perhaps, if you did not have anything else in mind, we could eat that and—“

“And have ice cream for dessert!” Alfred finished excitedly, leaning in, hands rubbing together.

Ivan instinctively wanted to take a step back, but he forced himself to stand his ground. Tried on a smile. “Yes. Only because we both have too many leftovers.”

Alfred grinned. “I’ll grab a plate. Your place or mine?”

Ivan looked back at his tidy apartment, looking big and bright, clean, devoid of any life. He looked back at Alfred.

“Yours. If only because that mess will get on my nerves if nothing is done about it.”

And Ivan quickly turned away to go grab the stew, because Alfred was practically radiating then, eye-blinding. Even now, after all these years, he reminded Ivan of the sun.

He hoped he had made the right decision in once again letting this ball of energy into his life.


	5. Ivan Braginsky vs. the World

“Good evening, Mrs. M! What’s up, Carrie? How’s the band doing? You’re not making life too hard on good ol’ Roddy, are you? Evening Ludwig! Want me to walk your dog again? I promise to be real sneaky going out of the building so no one sees us leaving.”

This was what Ivan came home to nowadays. It was as if Alfred’s presence had transformed the very nature of their building.

“How are you already on such good terms with everyone? It has only been a couple of weeks!”

Alfred winked at him, for reasons unknown to Ivan. “It has _already_ been a couple of weeks, you mean. In fact, how come you haven’t made best friends with everyone yet? You’ve lived here way longer than I have!”

Ivan huffed, carrying his groceries up the stairs as Alfred followed behind like an all-too energetic pup.

“I am on exactly the right amount of terms with them. They all know my face, I know theirs, we say hello to each other, some small talk here and there, I get to help fix toilets if anyone is in need.”

“Still a social shut-in?” Alfred teased, a question that Ivan wasn’t going to answer anytime soon.

“I am simply saying that you make friends remarkably fast. As if you breathe socialisation like others do oxygen.”

Alfred shrugged, even though Ivan wasn’t looking at him. “I just like making friends! Always have. Only now I’m even better at it, because my jobs have trained me for talking to different types of people.”

Ivan hummed noncommittally as they reached their floor. Glancing back, he found Alfred to be looking at him quizzically.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Nah, I was just thinking.” He tilted his head, squinted his eyes. “Ivan, are you jealous of my social abilities? Of my popularity?”

Ivan’s mood dropped about thirty degrees. “Do not be ridiculous. I am getting by just fine with my own skills, thank you. If I need to hire someone to charm a crowd for me, I will know who to call.”

Alfred was grinning far too smugly to his liking. “Okay, okay, just making observations. Unless you’re actually jealous of our _neighbours_ , because I’m spending time with them instead of with you. But you know you’re my number one buddy in this building, right?”

Ivan was grumbling something about abrasive toyboys who needed to get their egos fixed, why would he care who Alfred socialised with, and he did not need a best friend at all he already had friends.

Fishing out his key, Ivan leant over to open the door with one hand.

Alfred clacked his tongue. “Lemme get that for you, you’re already holding stuff.”

“I can do it myself—“

Alfred reached out and for a moment, placed his hand on top of Ivan’s. Ivan found himself looking up, straight into those compelling blue eyes, suddenly far, far too close. Alfred still had freckles, although they were less visible with his healthy tan. There was a small scar on his chin that hadn’t been there before, soft flesh exchanged for muscle mass and bone. Glasses. They were only small differences, but they still reminded Ivan of all those years in which they hadn’t seen each other, of how Alfred was a man now, no longer a boy. But those eyes were still exactly the same. A blue you would happily drown in, so full of life and emotion. Ivan remembered getting lost into those eyes for hours upon hours. He remembered eyelashes fluttering as they moved in closer.

Ivan straightened his back at exactly the same moment Alfred pulled his hand away, holding both of them up as if surrendering. Ivan nodded briskly, shoving the bag towards Alfred while he opened the door with both hands free.

Alfred didn’t need to ask for an invitation, understanding that the groceries needed to be put into the kitchen. He went ahead while Ivan took off his coat and shoes, inwardly reprimanding himself. He was letting things get complicated again. For no good reason at all, other than Alfred’s eyes being the way they were.

Alfred took the initiative, his voice drifting into the hallway from the kitchen. “What’s your favourite flower?”

Ivan walked inside, eyebrow quirked. “Have you forgotten? I did not think you had that bad of a memory.”

Alfred shook his head. “Was just thinking that if we wanna take this becoming-friends-thing seriously, we should do it in a proper way. Instead of just assuming that what we knew is still true, I mean.”

Ivan didn’t say it, but Alfred was definitely more insightful now than he was back then. He nodded at the paintings on his wall. “Take a look and you will know.”

“Ah.” Still sunflowers, with their golden crowns adorning that ball of heat in the sky.

Ivan took a can of cold tea from his fridge, gesturing for Alfred to sit. Even though Ivan was still getting used to having Alfred around, they had made a silent agreement to share drinks and food on a regular basis.

“And do you have any favourites that have been updated?” Ivan decided to humour him, even though asking for favourite things was more something kids did when trying to make friends.

Alfred drummed a hand on the table. “Let’s see… I like country music now. And not the boring, samesy stuff, the really good ones.”

Ivan snorted. “I thought you always wanted to be an astronaut, and that the cowboy was only a Halloween costume!”

Alfred’s cheeks glowed a happy pink as he laughed. “Hey, a guy can be more than one thing if he sets his mind to it! Take you for example, no one told you it was wrong to be a nerd _and_ a cutie at the same time!”

The conversation immediately halted, both bodies rigid and flushed. Ivan remembered how Alfred would always catch him off-guard like that, suddenly showering him with affection or thinking of new pet names.

Ivan took a sip from his drink. “I never understood exactly what you found attractive about me.”

“Are you kidding?!”

Ah. Wrong thing to say. He got Alfred going by accident. Ivan could see it in the way he drew in breath, the furrowed brow, glinting eyes. He had asked for it.

“You absolutely rocked the oversized sweater thing, you had this really nice messy haircut that always made me want to drag a hand through your hair, you were exactly the right bear hug-size, you were smart and witty but shy at other times, and you were basically just an adorable turtle!” Alfred slowed down a bit, noticing the almost pained expression on Ivan’s face—or was he simply embarrassed? “I mean, those were just a couple of the reasons why I thought you were cute. Once we got to hang out, it was mostly your personality that drew you in. But well, you know…all in the past and stuff…”

Alfred hadn’t yet touched his drink, but Ivan had already finished his. He was not going to fall for this obvious trap. He was not going to tell Alfred the godlike status teenage Ivan had acclaimed to him. He was not going to tell him that it was the conversations he had enjoyed most, even though kissing had made for a very close second. He was not going to let himself remember just how happy he had been that Alfred had picked him of all people, how he had woken up every single day as if living in a dream, everything rosy and exciting. He was not going to think about the _then_ , only to be drawn back to the _now_.

Now, when Alfred was sitting at the other end of the table, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t staring at Ivan. Trying to hide his intentions, even though Ivan already knew.

“I mean, that was the case for teenage Alfred. Now I wouldn’t fall for the same things, of course.”

“Naturally,” Ivan said, expression still not changing, happy he had saved himself the pain. “Because we have a specific word for older men falling for minor boys.”

Alfred rolled his eyes. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that my taste in men has changed.”

Ivan cocked an eyebrow. “I see. My apologies for jumping to the wrong conclusions.” Although there _was_ something interesting about what Alfred had said. “Taste in men alone?”

Ivan did not expect Alfred to get flustered, but there they were. Alfred nodded. “Yeah. So, while back in high school, I thought I might be bi, I have more or less figured out that I’m leaning way more towards gay. I guess I just couldn’t look at girls the same way after…uh…”

 _After you_. Ivan allowed the smallest of smiles. “I am proud that you came out of the closet for me,” he said, specifically ignoring the last part of Alfred’s confession. “Although I have always known you were gay. No man can join a sport in which sweaty boys tackle each other and then not have a preference for men.”

Alfred reached out to pinch Ivan’s nose, earning him a yank of the ear back. “I played baseball because I liked it, not to ogle other guys! There was only one guy I had my eye on back then. I’m just saying, after that, I noticed a lot more guys than I did girls, and in the end I went to prom alone because I couldn’t find it in me to say yes to any of the girls who’d asked me.”

And there went Ivan’s mood again, flying out the window like a fleeing bird. “Naturally there were _dozens_ of girls who asked you, because you were that popular. You could have probably gotten a guy as a date if you had just asked.”

Alfred was looking like a kicked puppy again. As if he had any right to be hurt after that bragging. Still, since Ivan was trying to be the better man and had found himself noticeably lacking in that department, he moved on. Because it didn’t matter who Alfred used to date with (or refused to date with). Because Ivan had plenty of his own stories to share in that department. Because they weren’t even together, so there was no use crying over spilt milk.

“Anyway. We were talking about favourites? Tell me about your favourite recipes.”

And Alfred’s visible gratitude almost thawed Ivan’s mood enough for him to relax. Almost.

* * *

“Why did you choose me?”

They were lying on Alfred’s bed, hand in hand, staring up at his starry ceiling. Ivan had never thought he would feel this comfortable just lying next to another, feeling the rise and fall of his chest move against Ivan’s own, their voices only a soft murmur. Just him and his boyfriend.

Ivan could feel Alfred turn his head to look at him, but Ivan kept his eyes up.

“I didn’t.”

A small shock rippling through his body.

A kiss on his cheek.

“We don’t get to choose who we like. But I like you, and I’m still thrilled that you like me back.”

Ivan turned his head, their foreheads barely keeping from touching.

“You are too mushy to be popular.”

Alfred was grinning, eye-blinding, only stopping when Ivan moved in to peck him on the lips. When they first started dating, he would have never guessed he’d someday be bold enough to take the initiative in kissing the other. Even though they were always just light smooches like this one, they set Ivan’s heart aflutter, filled him with a buzzing sort of glee.

“And you’re way too sexy to be a science nerd.”

Ivan was blushing, scowling. Alfred laughed, suddenly leaning in to wrap his arms around Ivan’s body, snuggling up to his chest.

Ivan stilled, heart beating rapidly as Alfred nestled against him, head tucked neatly under Ivan’s chin. He had already learnt not to be self-conscious about his braces or glasses or zits around Alfred, but moments like these still caught him by surprise, still managed to make him nervous.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Alfred mumbled, and suddenly Ivan felt a fit of nervous giggling bubbling up. His body shook, making Alfred take notice. “What’s so funny?”

“I-I was just think-ing that you a-are too g-gay to be a jock.”

Of course, Alfred brought out his most dangerous weapons because of this comment: tickles. Ivan was soon reduced to a squirming and wheezing mess, glasses knocked askew, trying to wriggle free from those murderous hands. Ivan had turned himself onto his stomach and was attempting to escape the bed when he suddenly felt a pair of lips gently touching down on his lower back, exposed beneath his hitched-up sweater.

Ivan looked back in alarm, but Alfred’s smile was too dreamy to indicate further danger. “I’m only gay for you, ya big doofus.”

The fun was temporarily interrupted when Ivan accidentally kicked Alfred in the teeth, but even then it all ended in laughs. And as Ivan lay there, holding Alfred close, no need of urgency or fear for interruption disturbing them, he thought he could never be happier.


	6. Ten Things I Hate About You

Ivan closed his eyes as he let the scalding water cascade down his body before coiling into the drain, water mixing with soap, foaming and whirling. He was contemplating his life, which had become a lot more hectic ever since his new neighbour arrived. Most of his free time went to Alfred nowadays, from shared meals to encountering him in the hallway to thinking about him even when he wasn’t around.

Ivan didn’t _want_ to think about Alfred, per se. It was simply hard not to. Alfred had this gift of forcing himself into your life and quickly cementing a place for himself there, making it hard to imagine a life without him. Making it hard to imagine how Ivan had lived through ten years without him, both re-opening the old wounds and partially nurturing the ragged edges. Because he was okay now. He could live with being friends with Alfred. He wasn’t going to let himself get hurt again.

His sister had called again today, and still he hadn’t told her the identity of his new neighbour. As if Alfred was a secret to be kept, as if there was anything going on that needed precaution. As if he was afraid of the consequences of telling the world.

Ivan’s eyes shot open when he heard banging on his front door. Great. They always had to disturb him right when he was finally able to relax.

Quickly turning off the faucet, he grabbed a towel and, after a couple brief rubs, draped it around his hips. He used to have a bathrobe, but it had accidentally shrunken in the laundry once, and he had yet to purchase a new one. Walking through the living room, he shivered a little at the breeze coming in from the opened window; today’s temperature had reached new heights, but luckily there was the occasional gust of wind to take advantage of.

Not worrying about who might see him—really, he had seen some of his neighbours in less clothing—Ivan opened the door and immediately adjusted his gaze down. Alfred, naturally.

Alfred had put on his usual million watt smile, but it seemed a little more strained as his eyes briefly shot down and back up again. Ivan crossed his arms in front of his chest, cocking an eyebrow. “Alfred. As you can see, I am busy, so if you could make it quick.”

Alfred’s grin was still a little crooked, a little too wide. He was also staring into Ivan’s eyes, unblinking, as if something bad would happen were he to look away.

Ivan felt both annoyed and more than a little amused. In the past, Alfred had been the one to initiate kisses most of the time, had been the one most prone to stimulating physical contact, light touches, hand-holding, hair-ruffling. Ivan on the other hand had been more shy, always reciprocating, but only rarely starting things. Alfred used to say he didn’t mind, that Ivan was like a beacon of calm for him to come home to. Ivan used to love hearing him say those things.

Yet now, when so openly confronted with partial nudity, Alfred didn’t know how to act, and Ivan was the one feeling in control of the situation for once. After all, Alfred wouldn’t be the first to see him like this, so Ivan had gotten used to exposure. His “personal bubble” had greatly expanded ever since entering college. Leading to the fact that now, it was surprisingly fun to mess with Alfred like this.

Alfred was wildly gesticulating—a tell Ivan had learn to recognise as the other being nervous. “Yes, okay, so the reason I came here is, you see, I actually wanted—more like _needed_ to ask you something, and I wouldn’t ask if I could ask anyone else, but—“

“Alfred. I have a shower to return to. Spit it out already.”

Alfred wildly nodded his head. “Yes. Okay. Sorry for disturbing you by the way.” He took in another deep breath, steeling himself.

As if Murphy himself had been listening in on the conversation, something almost unbelievable happened in the exact moment Alfred forced out the first word, “Would”. Ivan’s window being opened on such a warm day shouldn’t have been a problem in any other situation. However, right now, with Ivan standing just outside his door, leaning in a bit to enjoy even more of Alfred’s uncomfortableness, it proved to be an issue after all. Because a sudden harsh gust of wind pouring into Ivan’s apartment caused his front door to slam shut. Behind Ivan. Who was still only wearing a towel.

Both Ivan and Alfred went comically wide-eyed, staring at the closed door in disbelief. Because it had to be a one in a million chance for something like this to happen.

Alfred licked his lips. “I’m guessing you don’t have your key hidden in that towel?”

Ivan sent him a look so deadly it momentarily turned Alfred’s expression into one of pure and carnal fear.

“Okay, dumb question. Do any of the neighbours have a spare key?”

“Only the landlady.”

Alfred nodded. “Okay. So we’ll just go ask her.”

“Alfred.” Ivan gestured down. Alfred’s eyes followed, almost lazily. “I cannot go anywhere like this.”

Alfred was slowly moving his head up and down, then he jerked back. “Oh! Right. Dumb. Okay, so…okay. Come inside, I’ll look if I have anything for you to wear.”

Ivan looked at the door to Alfred’s apartment with a growing feeling of dread. “You? I doubt it. We do not exactly have the same size.”

Alfred was waving his comment away. “I’ll probably have _something_. Maybe one of my fandom T-shirts—not that I have _that_ many of ‘em, but you know. You might be able to fit into my sweatpants.”

“Let us hope for you that those are not, in fact, sweaty,” Ivan warned darkly, following Alfred into his apartment. His earlier satisfaction at seeing Alfred so nervous had all but fully dissipated.

Alfred’s living room was a lot cleaner now than the first time Ivan had seen it, largely thanks to Ivan’s help. It seemed that while Alfred excelled at social skills, Ivan had gotten the living-by-yourself part figured out a lot better than his neighbour. Ivan had mostly taken to cooking them meals after figuring out that Alfred thought of the microwave as his closest friend. Ivan knew that Alfred’s style of living wasn’t his concern, not at all, but somehow he felt responsible for the other. As if he were his mother instead of his ex.

Right now, they walked into Alfred’s bedroom—rather, Ivan walked and Alfred sprinted, raging through the room and throwing stray pieces of clothing left and right.

“Don’t look at the mess, I promise it wasn’t like this yesterday, I was going to clean I swear!”

Ivan stood in the doorway, scratching at his arm. His body was beginning to itch a little; he wanted to dry off as soon as possible. What did he care about Alfred’s unwashed clothes and comic books and—wait. Some of those were not comic books.

“Alfred. What are those.”

Like a young boy caught by his parents, Alfred was stuffing booklets under his bed with red ears.

“I’m keeping those for a friend, I swear.”

Ivan’s expression was cool. Please. He had two sisters. He had used _all_ the excuses back when he was still living at home. Alfred couldn’t fool him.

And for just a moment, his mind wandered to forbidden zones. Wondering what exactly it was that caught Alfred’s attention, late at night, alone in his bedroom.

Ivan was stubbornly trying to memorise the details of a Captain America poster by the time Alfred finally pulled out some clean clothes from his closet.

“Okay, I think this is the biggest shirt I have. Not that you’re _big_ , or anything, just tall. In fact, do you work out? You look like you work out. You should come visit me at the gym sometimes. It’s called Fit, Fitter, Fittest.”

Another brief look at Ivan’s stomach, secretive, as if he thought Ivan didn’t see him. Ivan suddenly didn’t find it as funny anymore to be half-naked.

“I go jogging,” Ivan mumbled, snatching the shirt from Alfred’s hands and pulling it over his head.

Alfred mutely handed him the sweatpants, clean as well. Then he just stood there, waiting. Ivan raised an eyebrow.

“Are you going to turn around?” he asked impatiently.

Alfred blinked. “Oh…I mean, we’re both dudes, but if you’re more comfortable with thaaaaaaa—OKAY you’re just gonna undress anyway and I am sorry for ever trying to challenge your guts.” Alfred quickly spun on his heels and stood in a corner, everything that about him a deep crimson.

Ivan sighed. He had sacrificed a little bit of comfort, but it had been worth it to once again tip the scales. Funny. It was almost as if Ivan felt the need to establish his dominance in this particular era. Maybe because he finally had something he was better at than Alfred, if you could be good at being naked in the company of others. It helped a great deal that Ivan enjoyed the occasional trip to the sauna; his sisters used to drag him along, but he had quickly taken to it enough to go by himself.

Ivan quickly dried off the last moist pieces of skin, then pulled on the pants, only briefly worrying about underwear before figuring there were more important things to worry about. Despite these clothes supposedly being among Alfred’s largest pieces, they were still a tight fit. Doable, but comfortable was a different matter altogether.

“You can turn around. I will not try to ruin your innocence again.”

“Innocence—!”

Alfred whirled back, glaring defiantly. “Maybe I’m just in shock that _you_ of all people turned out to be an exhibitionist!”

Ivan snorted. “Using the big words, are we?”

Alfred huffed. “And you’re not even trying to deny it. Shameless.”

Ivan stared at him. Alfred stared back. Then suddenly, as if someone had given them the cue, they both started laughing. Soft at first, hesitant, but soon the laughter came tumbling out, the both of them realising the absurdity of the situation.

“Who would ever thought we’d be bonding over you being a nudist?” Alfred wheezed, doubling over.

“You have strange ideas of what ‘bonding’ consists of,” Ivan threw back, wiping a tear from his eye. It had been a long time since he’d last laughed like this. Too long.

“Which reminds me. You came to ask me something?”

Alfred shook his head. “It can wait. Let’s get you back into your apartment first, okay?”

Despite his easy demeanour, Ivan could sense Alfred hesitating. He had no idea what about, but he _did_ know his priorities. “Right. Key.”

* * *

A little while later, they were once again standing in front of Ivan’s apartment, Ivan fitting the key into the lock and turning it with a satisfying click, the door swinging open easily.

Ivan sighed. “Thank you for lending me your clothes. Although you were partially the reason we got into this mess in the first place.”

“I’d say the wind is more to blame than me,” Alfred pointed out.

Ivan smiled, turning towards him. “Right. The wind did this on purpose.”

Alfred rolled his eyes.

“Either way…I will wash the clothes first and then return them to you.”

“Nah, no worries. I don’t wear these that often anyway, you can keep ‘em as long as you’d like.”

When Ivan sent him a quizzical look, Alfred quickly jumped to different topics. “Anyway. I uh…I think you should give me your key.”

“Whatever for?”

“Duh. In case something like this ever happens again!”

“I am not planning on this being something recurring.”

Alfred crossed his arms. “Ivan. Dude. I promise not to ever sneak into your apartment or use it to pull pranks on you or anything. It’s just in case, so that you don’t have to run all the way to the landlady if anything ever happens. Here—“

And just like that, he pulled a spare key from his pocket. “You can have mine as well, for the same reasons.”

“How many spares do you have?”

“Enough. I gave one to my parents and my brother and my best friends, and I recently made extras to hand out to the neighbours.”

“You are awfully trusting,” Ivan said softly.

Alfred was still holding the key out to him, and he now waved it in front of Ivan’s eyes. “Please? I’ll worry if we don’t trade keys.”

Ivan knew that Alfred’s logic was flawed. Had to be. And still, he finally reached out and pried the key from Alfred’s fingers.

“Fine. But if I ever find you in my apartment unannounced, I am no longer feeding you.”

“Hey.” Alfred winked. “You can trust me.”

And for whatever reason, Ivan realised he did.


	7. The Perks of Having Been a Wallflower

Ivan didn’t know why he had come here. He never went to the gym, and wasn’t planning on getting a membership anytime soon. Plus, he could see Alfred whenever he felt like it, no need to take a bus to one of his work places. Ivan guessed he was just curious, and it was his Saturday off, so he didn’t have anything else going on.

Pushing through his mixed feelings, he went inside, cool air-conditioning blowing into his hair the moment the sliding doors opened for him. It was a pretty large building with many facilities, the entrance hall containing plaques that read “cafeteria”, “pool”, “outdoors” and “indoors”. A sturdy-looking woman sat behind the desk, a bottle containing some green liquid standing next to the computer she was currently typing away on. It was like an intimidating warning sign, _no entrance for unhealthy people_. Or maybe her appearance was supposed to encourage possible newcomers?

The pool was visible through glass windows, a dozen people swimming up and down its length, two lifeguards overseeing the area. No Alfred there. Not that Ivan had expected to see Alfred so soon. This was actually better; at least now he could look around without making it seem like he had come here just to spy on his neighbour. Which he hadn’t. When it came to the spying, at least. He was just curious is all.

The lady behind the desk looked up. “Can I help you?” she asked, tone as upbeat as Alfred’s, as if everyone who had too much energy to spare came to work here.

Ivan offered a neutral smile. “No thank you, I was just looking around. A friend of mine recommended this gym, so I wanted to come look at them work.”

She continued looking straight at him. “Okay honey, if you want to wait here or in the cafeteria that’s fine, but I can’t allow you further in without a membership card. Or if you want a one-day try-out, I could fix you up a pass and assign someone to give you a quick tour of all our facilities?”

Ivan had begun shaking his head midway through her sentence. “That will not be necessary, thank y—“

“Okay Earl, that was a great workout! See you same time, next week?”

Oh no.

Ivan’s expression froze when his very reason for being here walked in through one of the doors, accompanying a middle-aged man who looked very red in the face and very out of breath. And despite the tight-fitting tank top, the headband that made his hair stand up even more, the red-white-and-blue sweatbands around his wrists, almost too-white sneakers that definitely looked like they would light up in the dark and a pair of far too baggy sweatbands, Alfred looked almost…professional. At least, he definitely looked like he fit right in, strong arm muscles accentuated by the lack of sleeves. Ivan hadn’t noticed it up until now, but Alfred was looking quite, for lack of a better term, ripped, even though he didn’t even come close to sporting a six-pack. The baby fat from his teenage years was all gone, that much was true.

Alfred noticed him before Ivan could unfreeze, his customer-aimed smile quickly turning into one of those bright things he usually kept for Ivan. As if he were the sun and Alfred was helplessly orbiting around him, when in fact, it was the other way around. Or at least, it used to be. Which didn’t mean that Ivan disliked being looked at like that, no matter how much it complicated things.

“Ivan! You came! You should’ve called or something, so I could have given you a warmer welcome!”

“Ah, so you’re the friend he’s been talking about?” desk lady said, very helpfully, as she wrote Earl down for another appointment.

Ivan really wished looks could kill. Or at least prevent someone for saying unnecessary things.

Alfred was practically radiating satisfaction by now. “Aw, you’ve been talking about me to Eliza?”

“I just said I came here on your recommendation,” Ivan mumbled bitterly, feeling like a child who had been caught with its hand in the cookie jar. As if Alfred was a cookie. More like forbidden fruit. As in, this had been a bad idea.

Alfred walked over, skip in his step. “Well, you’re in good hands! Don’t worry about payment Eliza, he’s with me for the day.” He turned to face Ivan. “Ready for your tour?”

Ivan tried to protest, weakly, but really, what choice did he have? He couldn’t just go visit a gym, the specific gym his neighbour worked at, and then act like he hadn’t come here for him. Alfred had to be feeling very smug right about now, that little bastard.

Only, instead of gloating about how Ivan had come here just to see him, Alfred steered them towards the dressing room.

“Wait, where are we going?” Ivan asked. “Do all of your tours start with smelly sweaty places?”

Alfred looked at him quizzically. “You’re going to get changed, of course. Can’t enter a gym in your daily clothes!”

Ivan stared at him. “I did not bring anything to work out in,” he said lamely, now realising that he should have. Now that would have been a nice excuse. _Oh no, I did not come here for you, I simply wanted a workout._ Maybe there was still time to run away and never come back.

Alfred was not to be deterred. “No problem! I can fix you up with some spare clothes. We always keep a few sets around, just in case. And don’t worry,” he said, seeing Ivan’s leer, “they’re all clean. Duh.”

Alfred then proceeded to unceremoniously dump Ivan in the dressing room, soon returning with an armful of clothes and shoes.

“I don’t know your shoe size, so I just brought the biggest pair. If they don’t fit, just give a holler, nothing worse than exercising with shoes that hurt your feet.”

“I do not have big feet,” Ivan huffed, “and really, I am fine. You can just give me a tour, no workout needed.”

Alfred shook his head. “No can do, big guy! No entering the gym without the appropriate clothes. Plus you know what they say about guys with big feet.” WINK. “Besides, you didn’t come here _just_ to have me show you around, right?” His eyes were far too bright. There was no way Alfred didn’t realise the amount of discomfort he was causing Ivan. “Also, I’m curious to see what you can do! Because I’m a personal trainer,” he quickly amended, as if his any other form of curiosity would be deemed insufficiently founded.

Ivan gave an almost pained expression, wondering how he kept getting himself into these messes. His life had been perfectly fine before Alfred came. Now there were bathroom incidents, awkward gym exchanges, an increasing lack of spare time… Ivan knew he wasn’t a masochist, but sometimes he couldn’t help but come to that exact conclusion.

“Fine. I will put on your dirty gym clothes.”

“They’re clean!” Alfred piped in one last time before giving Ivan some privacy, probably not wanting a repeat of what had happened last time in his bedroom. Still, as Ivan changed, to his displeasure finding the clothes to be exactly the right size, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. However, when glancing over his shoulder, he found Alfred to be neatly looking at the door, as if playing watchdog. Must have been his imagination.

“There. I changed. But I really just wanted to come take a look, not work out. I can decide after the tour if I want to keep coming here.”

Alfred grabbed him by the elbow. “But making a decision will be easier when you’ve actually gotten a taste of our equipment, right? You’re not gonna decide whether you like food without tasting it.”

Alfred was right. Or at least, he would have been, had Ivan been truthful about his intentions. He never should have come here. But now that he had, there was no other choice but to grit his teeth and go along with it.

Alfred first brought him outdoors, talking excitedly about all the different sports that could be practiced here, gesticulating wildly as he explained the uses of the track field and opening hours of the outside pool. Ivan meekly followed behind, switching between watching Alfred talk in such an animated manner and looking at the few people currently exercising outside, most of them using the pool. He supposed there would be more clients inside the building, making use of the air-conditioning in this hot weather.

“I guess we’d better head inside for you to try out some of our equipment, unless you wanna throw a few balls?”

“That will not be necessary,” Ivan said in a thin voice. He hadn’t thrown a ball since graduating from high school, and he wasn’t planning on embarrassing himself now. If Alfred had asked him to run a few laps, sure, that he could do. But actual sports? No thanks.

Most of the exercise machinery inside was already taken, several other personal trainers keeping watch over their appointed client. Alfred greeted all of them as they walked by, even though he clearly had already seen them earlier today, but that was just Alfred. Always happy to see other people, and wanting to show that appreciation.

“Okay. Here we are,” Alfred said, pointing Ivan to a treadmill. “Usually I put people to work with some cardio training first. Well, _usually_ usually I sit them down first to do a health assessment, but since you’re a special case, I’ll have you start here.”

“How am I a special case?” Ivan asked, almost offended.

Alfred rolled his eyes. “Duh, we’re buddies! And neighbours. So I can check your health anytime.”

He probably hadn’t meant it that way, but to Ivan, it sounded a little bit…double. Or maybe his mind was just wandering to the wrong places today. Like how he kept thinking about what Alfred would look like shirtless. For scientific purposes. Just so he could compare with younger Alfred.

Begrudgingly, Ivan started up on the treadmill, Alfred leaning over as he continued talking, both explaining all the different functions and chitchatting about unrelated topics. Ivan had no choice but to humour him, soon picking up the pace when Alfred noticed he was used to running.

“So yeah, this is one of my jobs! I have to tell you, I honestly didn’t expect you to come. Not that I didn’t want you here or anything! Duh, I invited you, would be weird if I told you the name of this place and everything without actually wanting you here.”

Ivan was trying to tune him out, focusing on his breathing instead, but found it difficult to do so. Luckily there was no one else looking their way; everyone was focused on their own routine. Which was nice, in a way. One of the reasons Ivan had never considered visiting a gym was that he didn’t care for being stared at. No such thing happening right now.

Alfred nodded approvingly when he turned up the speed even more and Ivan adapted almost effortlessly. “You look like you’ve done this before! Have you?”

Ivan shook his head. “Jogging,” he grunted out, not feeling like having a conversation while he was doing this.

“I didn’t know you jogged! When? In the morning? Is that why you’re almost always up before me?”

Ivan remained silent, not deeming the question worthy of affirmation. Alfred began leaning in, one elbow propped up on the machine. He was silent for but a moment, biting his lip.

“So uh…you know last time, when I came to your door—“

“And interrupted my shower. Yes,” Ivan panted.

Alfred smiled wryly. “Yeah, so, remember, I uh, I had actually come to ask you something, but with everything going on, I didn’t really get the chance to do so, so—“

As he was talking, his elbow slipped, accidentally touching the button that adjusted the speed of the treadmill. Without him noticing, the speed was turned up immediately, forcing Ivan from a heavy jog to a full-on sprint.

“Al-fred!” Ivan warned, trying to grab the bars and jump to the side, but too late. One moment he was running, the next, a worried Alfred was staring down at a heavily breathing pile of Russian.

“Ah jeez, I’m so, so sorry! I don’t usually make rookie mistakes like that, I—here,” he extended his hand, “lemme help you up.”

Ivan only opened his eyes to glare at Alfred. And of course, everyone _was_ looking at them now. Yet another place he could never return to. He could add the gym to his list, placing it right under Bar Venice, where the karaoke incident with his sisters had taken place, and that one Chinese restaurant  he had to literally drag Yao out of after the other had begun arguing with the patron over the blatant racism of having fake-Chinese waiters waltzing around the establishment. Not that he wanted to go back there. Yao could make them Chinese meals anytime they felt like it anyway.

After that, Alfred finally agreed to just _show_ Ivan the other pieces of equipment, without forcing him to use them, although Ivan didn’t let the opportunity pass to show off how much weight he could lift (even though he had the feeling that he only beat Alfred because the other was distracted by something).

The tour ended in the cafeteria, where Alfred took his lunch break and Ivan tried one of the healthy (and surprisingly tasty) smoothies.

“Again, really sorry for what happened on the treadmill. I swear I never do that.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow. “You just got distracted because of my sexy body?”

He had meant it as a jab, but found himself to be even more pleased when Alfred blushed instead of trying to protest.

Ivan took another sip from his straw. “Anyway. You were going to ask something before rudely pushing me off the treadmill?”

“I didn’t push you!” Alfred gasped, before being distracted by his phone. After checking a message, his expression fell.

Ivan tilted his head. “Bad news?”

Alfred was worrying his lower lip again, fingers tapping the tabletop. Nervous ticks he almost didn’t seem to be aware of.

“Not really…just—“ He looked at Ivan, about to speak his mind. Ivan waited, watched Alfred recoil, as if, for some reason, losing courage.

“Nah, never mind. It’s not important.”

Ivan pushed his drink aside. “Alfred—“

“No, I swear!” Alfred laughed, but it sounded off. He had never been a good liar. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

“My head is not little,” Ivan said, and when Alfred gave him a meaningful look, he realised that that wasn’t the point.

Ivan still didn’t know why Alfred got so flirtatious at times. Had he become a playboy, or did he only do this with Ivan? Or perhaps he was just this way with all of his friends.

There was always the possibility. That Alfred was starting to regain a certain interest in Ivan. Which wasn’t Ivan’s concern, nor his business. Because he only saw Alfred as a friend. Because he simply couldn’t allow himself to consider Alfred as more than a friend. Because…

Ivan stirred his smoothie, the two of them quietly staring down, both having their own secrets to hide.

Because he wasn’t ready to open up like that again.


	8. There's Something About Alfred

Ivan hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was dying on the inside. Here he was, at the most popular ice cream parlour, with his crush. On an actual date. For Valentine’s. And all he could think about was that he was still wearing his school uniform, that he hadn’t taken a shower this morning, that his glasses must make him look like a mantis or other wide-eyed insect, that he really didn’t know if this was a dream or not, and that he hoped it wasn’t, he really hoped this was real, even though it couldn’t be, because when would Alfred have had the time to notice him? He was almost always surrounded by a group of friends, or busy with baseball practice, or in class. Ivan couldn’t wrap his head around it.

And now Alfred was smiling up at him, amazingly blue eyes sending tingles down Ivan’s spine, a huge bowl of ice cream cradled between surprisingly chubby fingers.

“So.”

“So,” Ivan mumbled back, not daring to take his spoon before Alfred did.

Alfred was biting his lip in an ever-so enticing manner, a light blush on his freckled cheeks. “So uh, you done with your physics homework yet?”

For a moment, Ivan felt his stomach sink as he nodded; maybe Alfred was just trying to get some nerd to do his work for him. But Alfred was already digging his spoon deep into a mountain of chocolate, nodding excitedly.

“I felt like those exercises were made especially for me. You know, because they were all about space travel and rockets and stuff. And of course, I _had_ to think about you, because I know you love space as well, and—“

“How do you know?” Ivan interrupted, watching in amazement as the blush increased. Never before had he seen the school’s golden boy this shy.

“Oh, you know…”

The look on Ivan’s face betrayed that he didn’t know, and was very eager to be enlightened. Alfred swallowed.

“Uuuuuuuuh…well, I kinda noticed you at the library one day and…gosh, I really don’t want to sound like a stalker, but…” He was looking anywhere but at Ivan. “I uh, thought you looked really cute, so I sat across from you, but you looked so busy that I didn’t wanna disturb you, and I just noticed you read a lot of books about space, and I thought, ‘hey, I like space!’, so I started sitting there more often whenever you were around…”

Ivan’s jaw dropped. How had he never noticed? _He_ was supposed to be the stalker in this scenario, but it turned out Alfred was pretty good at it himself.

“You…thought I was cute? Why?”

Alfred quickly closed his lips around a spoonful, as if that would make it easier to confess. His expression was a strange mixture of oh-my-god-why-does-he-have-to-ask and yes-he-asked-now-I-can-finally-tell-him!

“I-I mean…” Alfred took a deep breath. And then suddenly, Ivan was assaulted. By what could only be described as a word waterfall.

“I think you have really pretty eyes and your hair looks super soft, and you always look so serious when you’re studying like you’re super focused and I kinda admire that, and I think it’s really cute but also a little weird that you always wear a scarf? But like, a good weird, like, I-really-wanna-know-more-about-this-kid weird, and I’ll stop calling you weird now because that’s totally not something you should say to the guy you’ve been staring at for months—I mean, not in a creepy way, I don’t think, please don’t think I’m creepy, I just never had the courage to talk to you before today, because, I mean, I, uh…”

Ivan’s ice cream was melting. His glasses were also sliding down his nose, but he didn’t want to look like the nerdy type to push his glasses up, even though he really was, and having glasses wasn’t supposed to be nerdy. He thought. Yao didn’t have glasses, and he was a nerd. Wait, he was getting side-tracked.

“You are not joking?” Ivan asked, voice far too high-pitched. He scraped his throat, trying again. Damn puberty. “I mean, really? You, most popular boy of our year, was afraid to talk to _me_?” He looked both sceptical and amazed, full of wonder and disbelief.

Alfred finally looked him in the eye, slowly nodding, though not having the humility to deny his status. “Look, I realise I sound like a madman, but…I like you. I mean, I don’t sound like a madman because I like _you,_ that’s not at all what I meant, just… And, since you accepted to go on a date with me…”

He reached out, grabbing Ivan’s hand. Both boys jumped, as if their touch caused sparks to fly off their skins. Alfred’s hand was surprisingly sweaty, unsurprisingly warm.

“You like me too?”

Ivan was opening and closing his mouth, not making a sound. Alfred was staring up at him with those big shimmering eyes of his. It was still too good to be true. But on the other hand, what did he have to lose? _He_ was the loser in this scenario, _he_ couldn’t possibly sink any deeper. He was pretty sure Yao wouldn’t judge him, and if Alfred was willing to be out in the open with him like this, without his friends… _Alfred_ , the one he had pined after for months. What reason could he possibly have to say no?

Ivan swallowed, sticking a huge spoon of ice cream into his mouth, before nodding quickly. And when Alfred grinned that thousand-watt grin he had almost perfected, he could only feel a million butterflies buzzing in his stomach. Or maybe they were bees. Didn’t matter. Because his crush had just told him he was interested in him, too.

It was only when Alfred squeezed the hand he was still holding that it dawned on Ivan.

Oh.

Did Alfred mean…

Did he just ask him if he wanted to be…

With, like, kissing? And stuff? And going on more dates? And…later…

Oh. Right. Because it wasn’t like he had zero experience with being someone’s boyfriend. Especially not a popular jock’s.

And despite feeling a light-headed during the rest of their date, Ivan never let go of that hand.

* * *

“And long story short, Arthur finally accepted my marriage proposal.”

“About time he did.”

Ivan and Francis were working in tandem, finishing a huge order of lily-based bouquets for a funeral. There was only one customer in the store at the moment, but they were taking their sweet time to decide on flowers, so Francis had decided to join Ivan in arranging the flowers. And Francis was in an especially good mood today, showing his brand new engagement ring to whoever noticed (or if they didn’t, he would help them a little).

Francis was shaking his hips as if there was salsa instead of classical music pouring from the speakers. “I am just so happy! I always knew he would say yes when the time was right, but I suppose you can never help feeling a little anxious when it comes to these things.”

Ivan nodded, even though he had never asked anyone to marry him, and thus could only guess at the amount of nerves one could feel in such a moment.

“Oh, and we haven’t made invitations yet, but you can be sure to expect one as soon as we do.”

“I am already looking forward to it,” Ivan said warmly, only giving a little sound of surprise when Francis reached up to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling the urge to share his happiness. Ivan laughed, surprising Francis in turn by dipping him, showing how easy it was for him to carry the other’s weight. They both looked up when a jingle announced a new customer.

Ivan’s stomach did a summersault. Alfred. Wearing a suit, staring at them with an unreadable expression. Alfred, here, in this store.

Alfred forced a smile, which looked really unlike him, terribly out of place on that handsome face. “Ivan. I didn’t know you worked here.”

Francis sent Ivan a curious look, and only then did the Russian notice they were still sort of embracing each other, Francis’ arms around his neck, as if _they_ were the happy couple instead. Without knowing why, he quickly pulled his colleague up and took a step to the side, retracting his arms. As if he suddenly took offense to Francis’ affectionate behaviourisms, as if he hadn’t been the one to initiate that last pose.

“Alfred,” Ivan replied coolly, holding out hope that he sounded like he had everything under control, in his heart knowing he didn’t. “What brings you here?” In a suit, at that. As if he had only dropped by on his way to a party or important meeting.

“Well, you know, this _is_ a flower shop, so…” Alfred sent a sort of expectant look at Francis, who had gotten the message, and was currently busying himself with the cash register.

Ivan saw him looking. “Oh! Alfred, this is my colleague, Francis. Francis, Alfred. He is my neighbour.”

Francis immediately looked up, offering a smile that would be able to cure cancer. “Ah, Alfred! Welcome to our humble little shop! And finally we meet. I have heard so much about you.”

He reached over the desk to give Alfred a hand, ignoring Ivan’s fuming. As they shook hands, Francis’ ring became visible. Noticing Alfred’s inquisitive and blatant staring, he held up his hand, proudly wagging his fingers. “I have recently engaged myself with my lover. We were together for three years, but I knew from the very first moment that he was the one I wanted to spend my life with.”

“Oh, congrats!” Alfred said, but Ivan didn’t miss the look sent his way, both alarmed and accusatory. Inwardly groaning at having to explain himself, when really, there was nothing to explain, he did so anyway.

“Yes. Francis and _Arthur_ make for a very good couple.” Why did he have to do this? He could’ve just left the suggestion in the air, mess with Alfred a bit. But part of him wanted Alfred to know that no, he wasn’t engaged, why would he ever be engaged, don’t be ridiculous. He couldn’t even keep a boyfriend around, so plans for marriage were out of the question. Especially with Francis. Not that nothing had ever happened between him and Francis. Because Francis _was_ a very attractive man, and they had worked together for ages, and yes, there had been evenings when one invited the other for a drink, and sometimes, things had escalated. But that was before Francis met Arthur, and after he did, both had agreed that simply remaining friends and good colleagues was a much better plan than complicating things.

Sure, Ivan had had a crush on Francis for some time. But now, when he saw relief sink onto Alfred’s face, and Francis offered him a sly wink, he knew that those feelings were something of the past. Which didn’t un-complicate things in the slightest.

Ivan walked over, placing both hands on Alfred’s shoulders, both to distract himself and to keeping Francis from talk to Alfred too much.

“So, Alfred. What can I help you with today?”

Alfred blinked owlishly, before jolting. “Oh! Right. I was gonna visit my parents, and I wanted to have a bouquet to give to my mom. Got any suggestions?”

Ivan placed his hand at the small of Alfred’s back, not missing the tiny shudder. Somehow, he felt invigorated, having Alfred show up at his work place. Instead of being nervous, he finally felt in charge of the situation. This was _his_ terrain, _he_ had power here.

“Well, does your mother have a favourite flower or colour? We can start from there, and use that as the base of the bouquet.”

Ivan briefly looked over his shoulder at Francis, who was sending suggestive looks. Ivan frowned, shaking his head, but Francis only flashed a thumbs-up, obviously getting the wrong idea. They were just _neighbours_. And friends. And exes. And there may be something more, but that was all there ever was going to be, so there.

Alfred easily let himself be guided to the back of the store, where they had more privacy—no, where the most interesting flowers were put on display.

“Well, she likes the big pink ones. They come in different colours, but she likes pink the best. Can’t quite remember the name…”

Ivan pointed at a beautiful bundle of freshly delivered flowers. “Carnations?”

Alfred nodded happily. “Yes! Wow, I gave you the vaguest explanation and you knew right away?”

Ivan smiled, a little self-satisfied. “It is my job to know flowers, Alfred.” He began picking out a couple of specimens. “It is funny that she likes the pink ones the best.”

“How so?”

“Pink carnations represent the Virgin Mary, and therefore a mother’s undying love for her children.” He looked at Alfred. “In a way, this flower is the perfect connection between you and your mother.”

Alfred’s eyes were shimmering, the boy obviously impressed. “Really? And what do those mean?” He pointed at the delicate white freesias, giving off a strong and sweet scent.

Ivan held a freesia to the carnations, already starting to make a mental image of the bouquet he wanted to create. “Freesia typically stands for innocence, thoughtfulness, trust, friendship and sweetness.”

Alfred whistled. “Are you seriously gonna tell me that you know the meaning of every flower in this shop.”

Ivan shrugged, as if that was nothing to be proud of. He didn’t want Alfred to know the countless hours he had spent studying the names and meanings of all flowers, just so he could impress customers (and Francis, who had been working at the store since it first opened up).

“We will need a couple of greens to make the bouquet more fresh…perhaps some pink roses to stay within theme and to signify gratitude…” He arranged the flowers in such a way that the bouquet remained delicate and sweet, with the pink flowers accentuated by some whites and light greens. Alfred was looking like one extraordinarily happy customer by the time he was finished.

“That’s perfect! Thanks for helping me out man, I owe you one.”

Ivan walked to his station to wrap the bouquet into a nice paper. “It is my pleasure. And my job.” He looked back at Alfred while his hands daftly worked a familiar routine. “Do you always wear a suit to your parents?”

Alfred looked suddenly self-conscious, which was unusual for him. “Oh, no, I uh, I just bought this suit, and they asked if I could come show it to them.”

“Oh? Is it for a special occasion?” Ivan asked, tying the whole thing off with a delicate bow. When Alfred didn’t answer, Ivan looked up.

Alfred was visibly nervous about something, for reasons unknown to Ivan. His hands were fiddling, eyes darting about. He really did look nice with a bowtie.

“Well…remember that thing I wanted to ask you?”

Oh, right. But every time he’d tried, something had happened to make them forget about it. Ivan felt a sudden pang of nerves in his stomach, even though there was no reason to be nervous.

“Yes, are you finally ready to ask it?”

Alfred glared at him, defiantly. Then his gaze softened. “Okay, so this is gonna sound crazy, but hear me out.”

Uh oh. That already didn’t sound very good.

“So, a nephew of mine is getting married in like, two weeks, and he asked us to come. But he’s from that part of the family who won’t shut up about me being single, so I kinda got pissed and told them I was bringing a date. Only problem is, I don’t have a date. Because I’m single.”

Ivan could kind of guess where this was going. He hoped he was wrong.

Alfred looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Soooo, I was thinking, if you don’t have anything to do…help a bro out?”

Ivan finished the bouquet, looked up, smiling sweetly. “No.”

Alfred put on his most desperate kicked puppy face. “Come on Ivan, you’d be a life saver. I’m begging you here. You don’t really have to do anything, just be there, so everyone will stop nagging me about it.”

Ivan sent him a stern look. “No. That is a stupid plan. Just tell him you do not have a date.”

“I can’t! They’ll never let me live through it!”

“Then ask one of your other friends! Surely they would not mind.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Alfred pleaded, “most of my family already knows what they look like, so it’d be really weird if I suddenly had to act like I was in a relationship with one of them. Nobody knows you, so—“

“Your parents know me,” Ivan said softly, suddenly feeling the urge to punch Alfred.

Alfred looked equally as hurt. “Okay, that was a sucky thing to say. But I can tell my parents you’re just doing me a favour, no strings attached, as long as the others are fooled. I just _need_ you to help me out here.”

“Your parents know we met again?” Ivan asked.

Alfred sent him a quizzical look. “I mean, duh. You suddenly being my neighbour is not something I’m gonna keep from them. You were a pretty huge part of my life, back when.”

Ivan suddenly felt guilty. Before, he had made a jab at Alfred not being openly gay back in high school. Now who was the one hiding things?

Ivan brought up a hand, covering his eyes. “If I do this for you, what is in it for me?”

“Anything you want,” Alfred immediately assured him.

Ivan peered over his fingertips. “Anything?”

Alfred nodded. “Of course. I’m not gonna ask you to do this without repaying you.”

Another moment of silence, before Ivan finally caved. “Fine. But no ‘I do not believe you two are together so you should kiss’, no dancing, no hand-holding, no forced anything. I will just be there, and punch anyone who gives you shit.”

And all of a sudden, Alfred was hugging him, fiercely. “Thank you thank you thank you, yes to all of it, you won’t regret it!”

Ivan was already regretting it. Especially when he looked over to see Francis looking at them in a _very_ meaningful way. What did he get himself into this time?


	9. Dirty Dancing

Ivan looked at himself in the mirror, correcting his tie, worrying about the unruly state of his hair. It had been quite some time since he had had something to wear a suit to, and even though he’d never worried about how he looked in it, today he found himself stressing over the smallest of details.

 _Because it’s a wedding_ , he told himself, _because you are posing as someone’s boyfriend, and you want to look the part._

Alfred’s idea didn’t sit well with him, but he had already given the other his word, and wasn’t about to go back on it. His sister would be very cross with him if she knew. Well, she would also be cross if she found out he’d been hiding the fact that Alfred had re-entered his life an innumerable amount of days ago, without him informing her.

Ivan locked eyes with his mirror image. He _was_ going to tell her. Eventually. But not right now. Not until it was absolutely necessary. Not that he was waiting for anything to happen, but it felt nice, keeping this a secret. As if it wasn’t real, a dream. And anything could happen in dreams.

A series of rapid knocks to his front door alerted him of Alfred’s presence. A deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Ivan picked up his keys on the way out, slung a jacket over his shoulder, opened the door. Alfred was wearing the same suit he had when visiting him at the flower shop—correction, coming to buy _flowers_. He hadn’t known Ivan worked there, after all, had told Ivan so himself.

Right now, Alfred was staring him up and down, whistling in admiration. “You clean up nicely,” he said, tone full of awe, as if he meant so much more by it.

Ivan tried not to squirm under his companion’s blatant staring. “Are you ready to go?”

“Hmmm? Oh, right. My parents are picking us up.”

Cold sweat erupted. “Your parents?” _The ones that knew we were an actual couple once but are only pretending now?_ “How nice.”

Alfred smiled again, this time more nervous. “Yeah. They offered, since I don’t have a car.”

To say that he wasn’t looking forward to today was an understatement; add to that the factor of intrusive parents, and he briefly debated on whether or not they should go through with this, before deciding that he was dressed up anyway, might as well. Ivan stepped outside, humming noncommittally as he locked the door behind him, pocketing the keys (no wind to throw off his game this time). When he turned around he found Alfred quickly averting his gaze, as if suddenly becoming aware of the fact that it was rude to stare (though Ivan _did_ like the way his cheeks coloured prettily).

They went down the stairs, Alfred being the one leading the conversation, as always, Ivan simply replying or making noises when he deemed them necessary. Alfred’s parents were just pulling up when they exited the building, and a wave of nerves flooded Ivan’s veins. He told himself to calm down; if Alfred really talked about their new situation to his parents, then surely he had already related the circumstances of their break-up, meaning that the pair knew that Ivan had never meant to hurt their son. At least, he hoped they knew, he hoped _Alfred_ knew, but surely he must have realised that by now.

Alfred led the way to the car, Ivan trying to stay calm under two inquisitive gazes coming from the front seats of the car. Alfred yanked open the door and motioned for Ivan to get in. He did so awkwardly, nearly folding himself in half, shuffling to the next seat over so that Alfred had room to sit.

As soon as they were seated, Alfred’s parents twisted to look back, both with brilliant smiles on their faces. Alfred looked so much like them, Victoria and Samuel Jones, Ivan had always thought so. He was his father’s image, his mother in demeanour. Times ten.

“Ivan, it’s so good to see you,” Victoria said, reaching out to press hands with him. “Alfred has been talking about you nonstop.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Alfred hissed, painfully embarrassed.

Sam chuckled. “It’s an incredibly heroic thing you’re doing for our Alfred. It would have been even more heroic for Alfred to just admit that he’s single—“ he said this with a pointed glare at his son “—but thank you, for taking care of him.”

Ivan’s cheeks felt warm as he shook hands with both of them. “Really, no need to thank me, I was just helping.”

Alfred leant forward. “Can we go already? We’re going to be late.”

His father chuckled again, giving one last comment before looking ahead. “Also, Ivan, I want you to know that you look very handsome.”

His wife nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I was thinking so too! You’ve become a very good-looking adult.”

Alfred groaned miserably while Ivan tried to make himself look smaller, wishing he could disappear. He suddenly felt like a teenager again, caught by his parents as he was making out with his boyfriend in a bush somewhere. He had prepared himself for all kinds of things, but not this amount of love, as if he were part of the family. As if he’d never left.

“Is Matthew not here?” Ivan asked, hoping to distract everyone (mostly himself) by making small-talk.

Alfred was looking out the window with crossed arms, he as well trying to compose himself. “Matt’s in Canada right now, doing research on polar bears. Mom and dad said he didn’t need to make the trip back just for Barry’s wedding, but here _we_ are, on the highway, all because—“

“Because we _can_ make it, and Barry is family,” his father finished with a stern look through the rearview mirror.

“We only ever send him Christmas cards!”

“Yes, but a wedding is too big to just send a card for,” Victoria said, her tone holding a note of finality. End of discussion.

Alfred rolled his eyes, finally deeming himself calmed down enough to look back at Ivan and uncross his arms, the gesture disarming. “Anyway, thanks again,” he mumbled, not wanting his parents to meddle too much. “You’re really doing me a huge favour here.”

Ivan looked at him briefly, then back at the grey blur of road speeding past. “Good that you realise that.” He failed to keep the smile from his voice.

* * *

The wedding itself went by without any major hiccups. Ivan did feel inappropriate laughter bubbling up when the groom had trouble putting a ring on his bride’s finger, but luckily he managed to swallow it down. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he knew almost no one here, but he found it hard to take the situation serious. It was just that it all felt so surreal, for lack of a better word. It didn’t exactly help that Alfred kept distracting him; nudging him in the side, leaning over to whisper about if it was all right to steal a wedding cake, twiddling his thumbs so fervently that Ivan _had_ to put a hand on top of them, forcing them to still. They were lucky Alfred’s parents didn’t seem to notice from where they were seated, one row ahead and a couple of seats to the right.

Ivan was glad when it was time for the reception, when he could reprimand the other freely. “Really, you are acting like a child. Do you dislike your nephew this much?”

“Dislike is an understatement,” Alfred mumbled. “He always stole my toys when we were kids, and even though he’s never really done anything openly homophobic, I _know_ he doesn’t take my being gay seriously. As if I simply came out because I wanted attention or something.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow. It was rare to see Alfred this openly hostile with another human being. “Do your parents know?”

“They know we didn’t get along as kids, but not the second part. And I’m not gonna tell them, so if you could keep it to yourself as well?” He looked up, pleading. “I know I’m asking a lot of you lately, but this is important—“

“Of course,” Ivan interrupted him.

“Really?”

“Yes. After all, you were going to pay me back.”

Alfred leered at him, smirking. “Right. Mister’s only doing it for his big reward.”

Ivan winked. “You got it.” He didn’t miss the way Alfred’s eyes glimmered.

After they were seated, it was only a matter of waiting for the necessary speeches to be given, then the cutting of the cake, and after that, freedom.

“Oh finally,” Alfred said, slumping over the table. “My stomach’s been growling for ages.”

“It was a lovely ceremony. I really liked her dress,” Victoria said, she and her husband rising first. “We’ll be right back, dears.”

Ivan smiled at her, Alfred giving a thumbs-up from where he lay on the table, face down. Ivan elbowed him in the side. “Alfred. People are staring.”

The other looked up. “They’re staring at you, big guy.”

Ivan frowned. Alfred was right; as soon as he looked around, he found gazes quickly being averted, people leaning over to whisper with each other. He briefly glanced down, wondering if there was something off about his appearance.

Alfred pushed himself up on his elbows. “They’re probably just curious about how I of all people could have gotten such a hot boyfriend.”

Either Alfred was openly flirting, or he hadn’t realised what he had just said. Ivan stared at him, wondering if he should remind Alfred that they were only fake-dating. On the other hand, there was nothing wrong with finding another guy hot. He thought Francis was incredibly good-looking, but that didn’t make them any more interested in each other.

“…Shall we get something to eat as well?”

Alfred nodded tiredly, rising. “Yeah. Let’s.”

The food was good, even though Ivan found it hard to enjoy himself with all the staring. In fact, he began making a list of all the things he could ask Alfred to cover today’s expenses.

Alfred didn’t get to eat the entire cake, but they did enjoy good, considerably less awkward conversations with Victoria and Samuel. Ivan learnt more about Matthew’s job as a wildlife biologist, and he told the others about what his sisters had been up to; one owning her own day-care, the other making for a professional dancer. In fact, even though Ivan was only doing this as a favour, he found himself greatly enjoying everyone’s company.

After the opening dance of the groom and bride, more couples and groups of friends began making their way onto the dancefloor. Samuel had just asked his wife for a dance when Victoria remembered that she left her more comfortable shoes in the car.

“We’ll be right back,” Sam said with a smile, the two of them darting off like a pair of young newlyweds.

Ivan regarded them fondly. “They still seem as happy in their relationship as when I first met them.”

“Oh yeah,” Alfred agreed, “nothing’s gonna tear those two apart. They’re true relationship goals.”

Their conversation was interrupted when the groom and two of his friends appeared at their table. “Alfred! So good you could make it. And this is your…boyfriend?”

It wasn’t that noticeable, but Ivan saw the slight narrowing of Alfred’s eyes, the way his fingers twitched.

“Barry. Thanks for inviting us. And yes, this is Ivan. Ivan, Barry, and his friends Jack and Niall.”

Barry leant in to give Ivan a hearty handshake, not even trying to hide the fact that he was sizing the other up. “My, my. Big fella, aren’t ya? How long did you say you two were together, Freddie?”

“I didn’t,” Alfred said through exposed teeth. Ivan was starting to understand why Alfred didn’t want to be here today. Even though the other hadn’t asked, Ivan took his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. _We’re in this together._

Alfred relaxed just a little, but Barry was unrelenting. “Oh, I know it’s none of my business. It’s just that, if you’d gotten a boyfriend, _surely_ the news would have spread like wildfire. Everyone knew immediately when you broke up with the last one, what was his name again? I forgot.”

“I never told you,” Alfred said darkly, and Ivan wondered briefly how Barry still kept that dumb smug smile on his face. If this wasn’t a wedding, he would’ve done something about it already. Alfred may have his shortcomings, but he hadn’t done anything to deserve _this_.

“Anyway,” Alfred continued, “congrats on the wedding Bar. Never thought you’d ever get hitched. You know, with your commitment issues and everything.”

Wow. These two were savage. Well, Ivan knew Alfred could be, if he wanted to. But never to this degree. Or perhaps Ivan had never noticed before, but he did now that the hostility was directed at another. (Or maybe Alfred had never shown any real adversity towards him.)

Barry leant in, his friends exchanging knowing looks. “You know what I think, Freddie? I think you two aren’t dating at all. I think you’re just trying to act like you’ve got your life together.” He leant in a little further, smiling as if they were best friends. “But we both know better.”

Alfred’s expression didn’t move even one fraction, but Ivan knew. He could feel Alfred’s hand trembling in his own. That was enough.

Ivan rose, pulling Alfred up with him. Barry, Jack and Niall quickly took a step back, Ivan noting with grim satisfaction that they were intimidated by his height.

“If you will excuse us now, this is one of my favourite slow dance numbers,” Ivan said in that special tone he had long since mastered, like venom-coated candy. He didn’t even pay attention to the music that was actually playing, only wanting to drag Alfred away as fast as possible.

As soon as they were out on the dance floor, Ivan planted Alfred firmly on his feet in front of him, hands attached to his shoulders. He sent a calculated look over his shoulders, noting that the trio was looking at them, and that Alfred’s parents hadn’t returned from their trip to the car yet. He turned towards Alfred.

“I know something to get them off your back. Try to act like we do this all the time,” he commanded, speaking slowly, articulating clearly. He knew he had made a list of things he didn’t want to happen today, but sometimes, drastic measures were necessary.

Alfred blinked rapidly, like a confused puppy, or maybe it was just one of the lights obscuring his vision. “What are you—?” He never got to finish that sentence.

Which was good, because Ivan didn’t know the answer to that question. He didn’t know _what_ he was doing, or _why_. Well, he knew why; he just wanted to wipe those smug smirks from those guys’ faces. They had to be in the top ten of most annoying people Ivan had ever met. Still, it came as a surprise to both of them when Ivan tilted his head, put a hand to Alfred’s neck to push him close, and connected their lips, immediately screwing his eyes shut. He tried to clear his mind before swooping in, but he needn’t have put in the effort; it went blank anyway the very moment their lips locked.

He felt Alfred snap taut under his touch, as if Ivan was electrified barbwire and Alfred had grabbed him with bare hands. He felt both searing hot and ice cold to Ivan’s lips, soft and firm, good and bad, all the opposites in the world combined in a single sensuous moment.

A memory: chapped lips, braces, teeth colliding. Those lips were much more smooth now, teeth parting as a shaky breath left his mouth.

Another one: Ivan’s glasses would often get in the way, and when they broke away, the lenses would be foggy. He remembered them laughing about it, time and time again, making a silent pact never to remove the glasses for small kisses, as if the glasses themselves indicated the line of what was okay and what went too far. Ivan hadn’t needed his glasses in ages, but Alfred had a pair now; it was strange being on the other side of them. But he liked Alfred better with glasses. (It made the blue of his eyes less blinding.)

A third memory: their hands would always be sweaty, but that never discouraged them from making use of them. Ivan wasn’t using his hands so much now, and when a pang of want told him he would _like_ to be using them, he knew they were safer off resting on Alfred’s neck and waist.

Ivan broke away, opening his eyes and immediately looking back, forcing himself not to linger, muting the alarm bells loudly blaring inside his mind. Jack and Niall were whispering to each other, but Barry had an expression of resignation on his face, as if there was no more dancing around the obvious truth that Ivan and Alfred were indeed a couple.

Ivan nodded his head once, glaring, hoping the message was clear. Then he turned back to Alfred. Alfred, who was staring up at nothing, cheeks a beautiful deep red, mouth slightly hanging open.

Ivan shook him a little. “Come on,” he murmured, “we have to slow dance.”

Alfred jolted from his trance, wordlessly starting to move around. They had only danced like this once before, at prom. Shortly before Ivan left. Ivan had hated dancing back then, feeling awkward in his disproportionate body. Now he was fine with it, even found himself out-performing Alfred, who was still a little dazed.

His companion finally spoke, haltingly, licking his lips. “Y-you, you didn’t have, I mean…thanks, but that wasn’t necessary.”

Ivan looked over his head, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I wanted to. They were being big assholes.”

When Alfred went silent for another short spell, Ivan dared look down to gauge his reaction. Alfred was gaping at him with something akin to admiration in his eyes, cheeks still rosy. “I guess…I’ll have to double repay you.” His voice was strangely gentle and quiet (perhaps even hopeful).

Ivan looked up, letting his gaze wander over the many lights hanging from the ceiling, feet shuffling about in a leisurely pattern. His heart was beating a little too fast to his liking, as he continued trying to desperately repress…everything. Emotions, thoughts, memories, implications, understanding.

“You can start by learning to clean your own house.”

Alfred snorted, and for a moment, it seemed like they were back to their normal selves, but Ivan felt it. Something had changed. And it was his own damn fault.


	10. Something's Gotta Give

Ivan stared at the stir-fry on his plate, moving the food around with a fork, lost in thought. The once neatly distinguishable rice and vegetables had already been turned into an unrecognisable mush.

“Food is to eat, not to play with,” Yao pointed out without even looking up from the newspaper article he was reading.

Ivan sent him a guilt-ridden glance, but after shovelling a mouthful inside, he went back to making his plate resemble a Picasso painting.

Yao and Ivan occasionally got together to exchange recipes nowadays, a bit of friendly banter, relaxation. They took turns cooking and always made sure to bring something new to the table. However, today Ivan didn’t much feel like thinking about food. His mind was too occupied by the wedding of last weekend. By Alfred. By their kiss.

“Yao?” Ivan tried, wondering if he was really the right person to ask these things to.

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever…” He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, as if tasting the different possibilities, speculating on how to best say what he wanted to say. “When you…do something for someone that you specifically said you would never do, simply because they made you want to do it…does that mean anything?”

Now, Yao _did_ look at him, expression scrupulous. Completely deadpan. “Well, that would depend on _what_ it is you did, and _who_ you did it for.” Obviously. Even though Yao was only a little short of being two years older than Ivan, he had this wisdom about him that always made Ivan feel like a child.

Ivan carefully placed his fork on the table, looking around, putting on an air of nonchalance. Yao’s apartment has always looked too cluttered, too intimate, as if you didn’t have any room to breathe or be alone. Maybe a result of him having so many siblings to look after, siblings who still liked to crash on Yao’s couch for the night or drop by unannounced. On the other hand, it made Ivan feel like he had stepped into a different dimension, as if he could speak more freely here, because it was so unlike his home.

“That someone would be…someone I used to have feelings for, but not anymore. And that something would be kissing him, just to help him out of a difficult situation.” _Because he had looked so frustrated, so in need of someone to support him_.

“Are we talking about Francis?” Yao asked casually, helping himself to a second plate.

Ivan snorted. “No! That is in the past.” The only reason Yao knew about that was because Francis had liked to call Ivan at unexpected moments just to leave flirtatious messages. Yao had been the one to answer his phone that one day, while Ivan was out to buy groceries for their next meal together. Yao hadn’t asked a lot of questions, but nevertheless Ivan felt like he was a teenager again, caught red-handed.

Yao was looking him over, scrutinising. Ivan stared back at him, resisting the urge to squirm. Usually he was a master of feigning indifference, but somehow, whenever it came to Alfred, he was prone to undergoing a temporary system failure.

Yao was tapping his chin now. “I don’t know of any other people you have been close with on a romantic level these last few years, unless you have been keeping secrets from me.”

“It does not really matter who it is,” Ivan said, even though that was a filthy lie. The question of _who_ was what had gotten him into this whole mess. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have felt so conflicted. But no. It had to be Alfred.

Alfred, Alfred, Alfred.

Alfred with hair the colour of the sun, with eyes that stared right into your deepest core, chasing away the darkness and bringing only warmth. Boyish, loud, far too energetic, aggravating at times, do first think later, with freckles all over his face and oh, how Ivan would love to pinch them off, one by one, thoughtful, kind, lovable Alfred. Who worked at a gym with pool but still got flustered over nudity. Was he a virgin? Not exactly a question you could just ask, out of the blue. Ivan still hadn’t even asked him when he begun to wear glasses.

“And there you have your answer.”

Ivan blinked himself back to reality, finding Yao to be looking at him with a knowing mien, smirk satisfied. Ivan hadn’t even realised he’d been zoning out. Daydreaming about Alfred. Which was bad. Very bad. He had never meant to feel these things again.

Yao tilted his head. “You know, I haven’t seen you look that love-struck ever since…” A flash of realisation, then suspicion. “No, that couldn’t be.” Fingers tapped. “Could it?”

Ivan had lost his appetite. “You are imagining things,” he said, perhaps more curtly than he normally would have.

If he closed his eyes right now, he knew exactly whose face he would be seeing.

After another agonisingly long once-over, Yao made a noise of sympathy. “I am simply trying to help. You are the one who asked for my advice, after all.”

Ivan chuckled. “Remember how you only used to like me for helping you with your homework and leaving you alone during lunch? Now look where we are.”

Yao’s next expression was one of bewilderment. “Ivan, what are you talking about? I liked you for you.” He was frowning. “Did you really think I would have hung out with you just so you could make my homework? You think too lowly of me.”

Ivan stared back at him with something akin to awe filling his chest, a sudden warm fondness. It was a time of revelations, it seemed.

Ivan was completely out of it at work as well that week. He kept absentmindedly picking up the wrong flowers, had to ask his customers several times exactly what they wanted, lost count while putting away cash in the register. He needed time alone to think, but wasn’t allowed such reprieve. At work, there were customers and Francis, and at home, there was the very thing he was trying to avoid thinking about. It didn’t help that Alfred was extra clingy these days, showing up earlier and leaving much later than he normally would’ve, almost waiting for him to get home, like a dog would for its master. As if he was _expecting_ something to happen.

“Ivan, tell me what’s on your mind. Please,” Francis finally asked, after Ivan almost sent a funeral order to a wedding. “I don’t want to pry, but I can tell you are brooding.”

“I am not brooding,” Ivan protested, but Francis didn’t believe him.

“It is perfectly fine if you don’t want to tell me, but I will have to send you home for the day if you keep it going like this. Whatever it is you’re struggling with, I am more than willing to listen to your troubles.” He lightly touched his fingers to Ivan’s arm. “I am telling you this as your friend, not as your boss.”

Ivan knew it would be safe to tell Francis. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the words across his lips. Because that would mean displaying a part of him that even Francis didn’t know everything about. Nothing would be the same if he talked.

And thus he looked Francis in the eye, and told him that by next week, everything would be normal again. And as he made that vow, Ivan already saw a plan forming in his mind. He would simply go home, pick up something nice to drink, and pay a visit to Alfred to have a nice evening with him. As friends and neighbours, which he was going to spell out to him. If they both understood completely what their relationship was, then hopefully his unwanted infatuation would go away. Because he didn’t need a partner, he needed a friend. He didn’t want to kiss Alfred. Well, a part of him _did_ , but the part of him that didn’t want him to want that was much more reliable, so that was the part that he chose to trust. That was the part that had a secure future, in which he would definitely be happy and whole. That was the part he chose to listen to.

As expected, Alfred was already leaning out the doorway by the time Ivan made it up to their floor.

“Evening, neighbour! You’re back earlier than usual. Nothing bad happened at work, I hope?”

It didn’t come as much of a surprise than Alfred had memorised his hours. After all, he himself knew exactly on which days he could expect Alfred home.

Ivan showed the bottle of liquor he was carrying. “I feel like having a drink. Your apartment, tonight.”

Alfred whistled as he accepted the gift. “Whiskey, nice! I didn’t know you drank anything other than vodka.” He laughed while trying to avoid a kick to the shins. “What’s the occasion, big guy?”

“The occasion,” Ivan explained, opening the door to drop off his coat inside, “is you still owing me from last weekend,” Ivan missed how Alfred straightened up, “and me thinking that a nice drink will at least cover half of the expenses. Which, by the way…” He turned around and held out his hand. “Means that drinks are on you tonight.”

Alfred sent him a sour smile, but Ivan could tell he wasn’t really mad. Quid pro quo. Alfred had promised, and he probably thought he was getting off easy if it only meant paying for Ivan’s alcohol.

They ordered takeout that evening, Ivan not feeling like cooking, what with the plan for conversation he had in mind. The whiskey went down easy, and soon Alfred went looking for snacks and more booze to liven things up a little, have a little party, just the two of them. Which was too intimate, really, and Ivan shouldn’t have allowed it.

But for some reason, whenever he opened his mouth to try and start talking more seriously, he was interrupted. Mostly by Alfred opening up a new line of conversation, the different topics including work, a new movie that would be playing soon, their siblings, the latest antics of their crazy neighbours, and most importantly, the past. They dodged the most dangerous lines of thought, which really, Ivan _should_ have been steering them towards, seeing as they would make for a perfect segue into what he really wanted to talk about. Instead, they reminisced. Favourite and most hated teachers, what would their classmates be doing nowadays, was the ice cream in that one parlour really as good as they remembered it to be or was it just the nostalgia speaking.

Perhaps it was a need for nostalgia that made Ivan drink more than he normally would have. Or maybe it wasn’t that he was drinking more, but that he had simply decided to let go. Either way, under different circumstances, Ivan just _knew_ he would never have gotten this inebriated. Even though he kept proclaiming that he felt just fine, thank you.

Alfred was giggling like a madman, clinging to an empty glass as a drowning man would to a lifebelt (he had previously emptied said glass over Ivan’s foot). They were sitting next to each other on Alfred’s couch, Alfred’s legs slung over Ivan’s, despite the other’s protests. Ivan kept trying to push him off, but either he didn’t succeed, or Alfred always came right back. It was hard to tell which was real and which actions were just imagined at the moment.

“No, I’m telling you! Mrs. Pegsworth ado, adora, adorn…she loved you, man!”

Ivan resolutely shook his head, even though that made the room spin a little. He had given up on trying to remove Alfred’s legs, his free hand now resting on top of them. The other kept pulling absentmindedly at his scarf, because it was too hot.

“She _did_!” Alfred insisted, and were Ivan’s eyes playing tricks on him or was his host shirtless? Ivan squinted, looking around the room, but he couldn’t find the missing piece of clothing.

Alfred slumped against him, sighing. “Watcha lookin’ for, goodlookin’?” He spluttered at his own terrible attempt at a pickup line.

Ivan gave up on trying to locate the shirt, suddenly much too aware of how close they were sitting. He felt tired, and it was nice, this. A warm body leaning against him, comfortable, familiar, trustworthy. If he tilted his head to the side, he could just make out that amazing blue that had to be Alfred’s eyes. It was somehow hard to focus on them.

There was something he’d been wanting to say. What was it again? It was terribly important. Alfred had to know. He had to tell him.

Ivan jolted when something touched his lips. Alfred’s hands. His fingertips were stroking almost curiously, touch feather-light, next to non-existent. Ivan breathed out and Alfred retracted, as if startled by the gust of air on his skin.

“What are you doing?” Ivan asked slowly, accent hardened by the liquor. It wasn’t so much that it became harder to speak; in fact, it was much, much easier. To open up. To let go.

Alfred’s face was so close to his own, nuzzling into his shoulder and neck, tilted up just enough for his nose to slide along Ivan’s jawline.

“You kissed me,” Alfred murmured.

Ivan swallowed. “I did.”

It suddenly clicked. Alfred’s glassing were missing. That was why his eyes seemed so much bigger. And he was _definitely_ shirtless, even though Ivan still couldn’t figure out when or how that had happened.

Alfred’s lashed fluttered, tickling at Ivan’s chin. “Why?”

Ivan didn’t answer, not immediately. They both knew why. But there was that something else, that wall that was usually there, but now, while he was watching it crumble down, he couldn’t remember what it had meant, why it had even been erected in the first place. Why it had been so hard to just say _yes_. Because he wanted to say it, he really did.

Ivan clumsily brought up a hand, touching Alfred’s cheek. He wasn’t supposed to. Why wasn’t he supposed to?

“Snot fair,” he mumbled darkly.

“Whatis?”

“You. Popular, smart, _and_ beautiful. Unfair.”

Alfred’s eyes definitely widened that time, and he moved back to look at Ivan. “You. You said beautiful.” Wonder. Delight. Hope. Nothing of the usual comebacks. “Really? You think I’m—“

But Ivan would never hear the end of that thought, as he let his head lull forward, all but crashing into Alfred. Like a moth drawn to the light. He kissed Alfred, desperately, needing him as he craved oxygen to fill his lungs and sustain him. All the “no”s had been exchanged for a single, loud, “yes”. He still couldn’t recall why there had even been a no in the first place, not even when the mere act of kissing Alfred made something miserable fill his stomach. He couldn’t tell if he was sobbing or gasping, or if it was Alfred, or perhaps they were both panting, clinging, clawing, pulling and twisting. It didn’t matter in that moment. He just wanted to feel loved, to be happy, to ignore all those dark thoughts that usually held him back. Goodbye uncertainties, goodbye armour he had carefully crafted, lest he get hurt.

Hurt. Right. That was he had meant to tell him.

But when Alfred grabbed his face with both hands, kissing him so fiercely the world tipped upside down, he found that it didn’t even matter. Not now. Not when he was feeling so warm and fuzzy and hazy and simply ecstatic. And so desperate it became palpable.


	11. Your Name

Kissing Alfred was heaven. The softness of it all, slow and hesitant at first, until the ice melted. Addictive, that was the word he was looking for. Having someone so close you could distinguish the exact shade of their eyes, count that myriad of freckles sprawled across smooth cheeks. Feeling warm and conscious of every single part of your body, but in a good way.

The way Alfred slipped his hands into Ivan’s hair, almost unconsciously tugging at his strands in an attempt to get them closer, instinctively, translating the very desire Ivan felt into action. The way their knees would bump, until one or both moved their legs out of the way and into the other’s, until someone lost patience and flipped the other onto his back. The want, the _need_ to be held, to hold, underlined by pants and giggles and sensual whispers. Even the way their lips would catch on each other’s braces.

But even though kissing Alfred was heaven, that didn’t mean no one else could intrude. Which was exactly what happened.

Ivan had been lying on his bed, Alfred on top of him, as they were busily engaged in their favourite occupation. When they heard the door opening and a soft exclamation of “oh!”, Ivan had been the first to look, but Alfred had been the first to move away, scrambling back as if Ivan were suddenly on fire. Standing in the doorway was his older sister, Yekaterina, with a face like a cooked lobster, only outmatched by Alfred’s current complexion.

He had been sure that the door was locked. Seems like they forgot in the heat of the moment. Ivan groaned and grabbed a pillow to hide his face in, while Alfred quickly pulled his shirt back over his head, looking absolutely mortified.

“I am so sorry, I will, um, I will leave you alone for now!” In an attempt to smooth things over, Ivan’s sister only managed to make their current situation even more awkward.

Ivan made a noise that could have meant “please do”, or “please kill me.” But Alfred was already up, laughing like a broken record. “No it’s okay, I was just leaving! I was uh…homework!” A more pathetic excuse had yet to be invented.

Alfred darted past Yekaterina, keeping his head low so he didn’t have to look her in the face while she kept uttering apologies and please-don’t-mind-mes. Ivan waited until he heard the front door slam shut before throwing the pillow away and quickly scuttling over to his bedroom window, stealing a glance outside. He caught Alfred pulling his bike out of the garage, but before the boy left, he looked up and met Ivan’s eyes. Despite still looking like his worst nightmare had just become reality, Alfred flashed a shaky smile and a thumbs-up, mouthing something that looked like “I’ll call you.”

Ivan offered a smile and wave of his own, waiting until Alfred had disappeared out of sight before taking a deep breath and slowly turning around. Katyusha was still standing in the exact same spot, hands folded in front of her stomach, waiting patiently. She was taking this unusually well, and Ivan was preparing for a storm of sisterly concern to wash over him.

Instead, before he even got the chance to start talking, his sister rushed over and pulled him into a strong embrace. Ivan struggled to get away.

“K-Katyu—I—can’t—breathe!”

“I am so, so sorry for not knocking, but I heard noises and I thought you might have been choking or fighting with a burglar, but I am so happy for you Vanya!”

She finally released him from the deadly grip, keeping Ivan at an arm’s length while he gulped in fresh air. She was positively beaming.

“I have been so worried for you, because you never bring home any friends or go to parties—but oh! I should not have worried at all. You have just been hiding your friends from me, haven’t you?”

Ivan stared at her, dumbfounded. Almost didn’t have the heart to tell her. But now that they had started this conversation, he might as well get it over with. If he could trust anyone with this, it was his sister. “Katyusha…Alfred, he—well, he is not exactly…a friend.”

She laughed. “Oh, I know. I was just talking about your relationships in general.”

Yekaterina winked when she noticed him gaping.

“Wait, I, you, I mean, you are okay? With me being…with me having a…” He gulped, licked his lips. “Boyfriend?” It was the first time he ever spoke that word out loud. Not even to Yao had he said it; they never really talked about Ivan’s love life, even though Yao had seen Alfred and was well aware of their developing relationship. Yao was cool about those things.

She nodded. “Vanya, how could I not be okay? All I want is for you to be happy. Whether that happiness is found with a boy or with a girl, or neither, or both—although I would not like it if it was both at the same time—I support you. Through and through.”

He had the biggest urge to hug her. But that would mean risking his life.

Ivan studied her grinning face, heart pounding. She knew. And she was perfectly fine with it. He hugged her anyway.

“So, this Alfred. Is he a keeper?”

Ivan didn’t look her in the eyes, but couldn’t keep the stupidly happy smile off his face. “I hope so. I like him. I like him a lot.”

If it were up to him, his relationship with Alfred would last forever. Because it was pure and utter bliss.

If it were up to him.

* * *

Ivan was swimming upstream, trying desperately to keep his head above water. From the riverbank, people were shouting at him. The spare glimpses he got from them told him that for whatever reason, they all had Alfred’s face.

“Traitor!” “Coward!” “You don’t deserve this!”

Ivan didn’t understand. Couldn’t they see that he was drowning? Yet somehow, the water felt like a warm embrace as it tried to pull him under, again and again. As if it was trying to protect him from a worse fate. So Ivan let go, and saw his world go blue.

Waking up felt exactly like that; as if he had just drowned and was now being reborn. Even though it was a lot less wet and a lot more comfortably soft in an almost stifling heat. Ivan didn’t want to open his eyes just yet, already feeling a headache gnawing at the inside of his skull. Must’ve been drinking again the night before. Good thing it was what, Saturday? Must be; he wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to get wasted on a night before a working day.

The dream was almost completely forgotten, all that remained being a feeling of dread, like something terrible had happened that he simply _had_ to remember. But thinking hurt. In fact, his body hurt too, as if he had been sleeping in an awkward position.

A sound of breathing that was not his own. Oh. He hadn’t invited someone over, had he? Ivan supposed that was a possibility. Not that he remembered anything about going out. Then who…?

When the body beside him rolled onto its side, it began to dawn upon him. The wedding. The liquor. Alfred.

Ivan’s eyes snapped open too fast, blurring his surroundings for the time it took them to adapt to sudden light. Ivan didn’t care, immediately looking over. Alfred was indeed lying next to him, curled up into a little ball, shirtless. From what Ivan could see, his neck and upper torso were covered in marks. The only explanation was that Ivan had put them there. He vaguely remembered thinking something along the lines of wanting to rid Alfred of those annoying little freckles of his. It appeared he had tried, only, instead of pinching, he had wanted to kiss every little spot he could find.

Despite the headache, Ivan’s mind was buzzing with thoughts. When had they gotten to the bed? He remembered them sitting on the couch, talking nonsense, but nothing after that. A brief dip under the covers told him that at least he was still wearing his underwear, so perhaps _that_ hadn’t happened. Unless Ivan had put his briefs back on after the act. Was he that rational when drunk? He supposed it was a possibility.

Ivan’s heart was hammering against his ribs as he took a deep breath to steady himself. No need to panic. Not even when both his and Alfred’s body were thoroughly accessorised with a wide variety of hickeys and bite-marks, making them look more like Jackson Pollock paintings than actual human beings. He didn’t remember Alfred to be a biter, unless it was on actual food. Then again, he didn’t remember ever waking up in Alfred’s bed almost in the nude. They had never went that far, after all.

This was a disaster. That was the correct word for it. Even if he was going to handle this calmly and rationally and like the proper adult he was, it remained an absolute disaster. Staying over was _not_ the same as setting boundaries and spelling out that they were friends and nothing but friends. What did he have to make of this? That they were now friends with benefits? What if Alfred expected a repeat? What if things would go awkward and the relationship they’d been building up had been ruined? What if it wasn’t ruined, but would instead deepen? What if nothing had happened? What if _everything_ had happened? What if this had been all that Alfred was after?

Swallowing down the anxiety in his gut, Ivan did the only reasonable thing. He quietly sat up and began looking for his clothes, and if he wouldn’t find them fast enough, he’d just slip outside like this. He had to get out of here. Maybe if he pretended like it didn’t happen, Alfred would do the same. He didn’t want a friend with benefits. He didn’t want Alfred to think he was easy, or that he actually _liked_ casual sex. Which he had previously thought he _did_ like, because he definitely didn’t want another steady relationship, but not when it was with Alfred. Anyone but Alfred. And most of all, he didn’t want to _not_ remember their first time together. So it didn’t happen. Simple as that.

Ivan located his keys, which were lying on the floor, then his socks, and began pulling them on. However, his pants and shirt were nowhere to be found. At least he wasn’t completely naked. And for once, it was a good thing that he lived next-door, because now there would be no one to witness his walk of shame.

The bed shifted again. Ivan froze. “Leaving so soon?” Alfred’s voice croaked, heavy with sleep.

Ivan didn’t dare to look behind, not wanting to see Alfred’s expression, whether it be blissful, hopeful, or derisive. He didn’t want any false hope, nor did he want a confirmation of his worst fears. He just wanted to get out.

“Yes,” Ivan said after a brief hesitation. “I…forgot to water the plants.”

The mattress dipped a little behind him, as if Alfred was sitting up. “Water the plants. That’s why you’re leaving.”

Ivan could hear shrieking in his head when two hands snaked their way around his waist. “Come on, stay. It’s the weekend. We can sleep in.”

With a jerky movement, Ivan pulled himself free. He stumbled as he pushed up and away from Alfred, quickly turning around. Alfred was looking up at him, mostly sleepy, but also a little aggravated by Ivan’s behaviour.

“No thank you,” Ivan said, sounding far too polite for the situation they were currently in. He wished he had his scarf, which always managed to keep his hands busy when he was agitated, but he hadn’t located it yet. Instead, he passed a hand through his hair, further messing up the undeniably messy locks.

“Look, tonight…I did not mean to, I never should have—“

“Ivan,” Alfred interrupted him, and Ivan cut himself off immediately, despite the other’s voice being so soft it was barely audible.

“I’m not asking you to stay so we can do stuff, okay? Besides, I don’t think…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but Ivan understood. They were both still wearing their underwear, after all. What should have come as a relief only helped to further twist the knot in his gut.

“Just stay.” Pleading. Oh so hopeful. “Please.”

Ivan was already shaking his head, even before Alfred could utter that last word. _Why would you want me to stay, if not to have sex with me_? is what he wanted to ask, but instead the question leaving his lips was “Why should I?” What reason could Alfred possibly have in mind? What use was there in further complicating things, what could Alfred possibly hope to _gain_ from—what? Cuddling with him? Having an old-fashioned sleepover? Did he need a human body pillow to sleep?

Alfred’s hands were trembling. He tried to hide it by balling them into fists, but Ivan noticed anyway. “Isn’t it obvious?” his neighbour asked, voice raw.

A part of him, hidden deep within, wanted to understand. Wanted to reciprocate. Wanted to love and be loved, to hold him, kiss him, do all the things they used to do and more, so much more. A part of him wanted to stay and cuddle, wanted to _more_ than cuddle.

But that part failed to escape Ivan’s heart to his head, which was clouded over with doubt, which simply failed to understand why on earth Alfred would want him here, which only remembered what had happened last time he opened himself up to someone. How much it had hurt. How no man after had ever made him feel the same. How he could feel himself lock up every time a relationship threatened to become just that, a _relationship._ Deeper, more meaningful, more personal, intimate.

A part of him only wanted Alfred. The rest of him couldn’t fathom Alfred wanting the same, always wanting it, not even when he practically threw himself upon Ivan.

Thus, wildly shaking his head, Ivan stumbled backwards, out of the room. “I have to go,” he mumbled, shaking. He never heard Alfred’s reply.

* * *

It was the day before moving-day. Everything was packed into boxes, but that wasn’t what made Ivan’s room look so barren. He’d had a fight with Alfred. A big one. An earth-shattering one. And now he was staring at the message that had just pinged on his phone.

_We’re done talking about this._

Just like that, everything had been blown apart. Like the wolf in that story with the three pigs. Or was it a fox? Ivan could never quite remember.

Just like that. Months of pining, then months of the happiest he had ever felt in his life. He had been ready to start arranging his life around Alfred. From the college they’d go to, to which state was best to raise children in. (Ivan had never told anyone how much of a hopeless romantic he actually was. Watching soap-operas while eating sweets and clinging to a pillow hopeless romantic.)

 _We’re done talking about this_.

Alfred had given up on them. He didn’t think there was anything left to try and save. Ivan was moving, and apparently, that meant the end of their relationship, not even a year long now, even though it already felt like a lifetime.

Ivan didn’t want to believe it at first. That couldn’t be it. He kept staring furiously at his phone, waiting for the rest of the message, for some kind of explanation, for a simple goodbye. Nothing came. Alfred hadn’t even deemed it worth it to come say this to his face. Ivan was tossed aside like a used napkin.

He should feel used. He almost did. But first and foremost, he felt heartbroken. He had never expected Alfred to be the type to break it off via message. To ditch him, first chance he got. To play with his feelings like that.

What was it? A bet, after all? Had he simply gotten tired of having to hide, had he gotten tired of Ivan? Did he realise he preferred girls after all, had Ivan just been an experiment?

He didn’t want to be thinking about this. He still had to pack his books. Arrange them neatly into stacks that could be put away in an orderly manner. But every time he tried picking up one of the books, his hands started trembling so furiously he had to put it down again, in fear of messing up the paperbacks. It was hard seeing anyway, what with the tears constantly threatening to spill.

They were done. A single message, no follow-up. The day before he moved out of town, making sure they’d probably never have to meet again. The bastard. (The angel.)

It was Yekaterina who found him like that when she came to get him for supper, hunched over a still empty box, hugging himself, softly rocking back and forth. Tearless weeping, the water filling him up, not quite spilling.

She never asked what had happened, but Ivan could tell that she knew. He could tell from the way she wordlessly packed the book-box for him, how she covered for him when he didn’t come downstairs to eat, coming with the excuse that he was too caught up in saying goodbye and would be eating in his room.

Ivan never did get another message. And while they were driving out of town the next day, he removed Alfred from his contacts, vowing to never let himself get hurt like that again.

Vowing to never fall for blue eyes and a brilliant smile again.


	12. He's Just That Into You

The week after that horrible encounter, Ivan tried to avoid Alfred at all costs. Which proved to be considerably difficult, seeing as they were, after all, still neighbours. Every single time Ivan ran into Alfred, he felt his throat constrict, as if his heart had grown a few sizes and was now trying to make its escape. Unable to get more than a nod or a grumbled word of greeting across, he always hurried away as soon as possible. Slamming shut his mailbox so he could fly up the stairs, already having his key at the ready before moving up to their floor, taking long detours to get to and from work in hopes of mixing up his and Alfred’s schedules.

He knew that they should be talking about this. He couldn’t avoid Alfred for the rest of his life. On top of that, his agitation was starting to sneak into his work again, and he couldn’t have Francis knowing how he’d made such a fool of himself.

Ivan hadn’t realised that Alfred’s sentiments on the subject were so like his own.

One evening, after yet another sizeable detour, Ivan found Alfred sitting in front of his door, blocking the entrance. He looked up when he heard Ivan approach, and Ivan realised with a shock that the other had been crying. Because of him?

“Hey,” Alfred said, sounding much more steady than his red eyes would have one expect. “I thought you’d never make it home.”

“I went for a walk,” Ivan said, feeling numb. He jiggled his keys, as if hoping that that would make Alfred leave.

Alfred did rise and step aside, but he didn’t leave. He held out Ivan’s scarf, which Ivan quickly took, offering a swift but genuine thank you. He had forgotten to take it with him when making his escape from Alfred’s bedroom, and had been running around with a spare for days. Not even a heatwave could keep his scarf from his neck.

Alfred spoke as Ivan opened up his door.

“Okay, so I’m just gonna come out and say it. I can clearly see that…that you have issues with me living here.” Ivan’s eyes shot to Alfred before quickly moving back to the door. It opened.

“That’s why I’m gonna start looking for a new place. Tomorrow. I won’t bother you again.”

Ivan dropped the keys in his hurry to spin towards Alfred. His jaw felt slack. “You are leaving? Why?”

Alfred’s frown was equally harsh as pained, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants. “Because, obviously, you don’t wanna talk, you’re not comfortable with me being your neighbour anymore, and…” He looked away. “I just don’t wanna keep up false hope, okay?” His lip was trembling. Was he going to cry again?

Ivan was shaking his head before Alfred had finished talking. There were so many things he could say. _Don’t be ridiculous. We’re adults, we both have as much right to live in this building._ Or, _I think you leaving would be for the best, that way I won’t ever have to face my problems._

What he blurted out instead was, “But I don’t want you to leave.” _Because of me,_ he should have added. _I don’t want you to leave because of me_. It was only when he finished the sentence early that he realised that both were true. As painful as the past week had been, and as dangerously intimate all the weeks before that, he didn’t want Alfred to leave. Not again.

Alfred pulled one fist free to slam it against the wall, visibly frustrated. “Then what the fuck _do_ you want?! I’m tired, Ivan! I’m tired of trying to figure out what you feel about me. Do you hate me?”

Did he?

“…No.”

“Then why?” Alfred was shouting. “I think I’ve made my intentions more than clear—if you don’t want me to go, then why do you keep pushing me away?”

“Because I am scared, okay?!” Ivan snapped, before he could stop himself.

This seemed to trigger a new reaction; Alfred’s frustration deflated before his eyes. They stared each other down, Ivan wishing he could take back what he had said. He didn’t want Alfred to know, didn’t want to allow the creation of that opening in his defences.

“You’re…scared? Of me?”

Ivan growled, placing a hand over his eyes. He wasn’t anywhere near crying, but he felt shaky nonetheless. “No! Not of you, not specifically.” He removed his hand, looking back at Alfred with a tired expression. He sighed, heart thundering against his ribs as if he had just run a marathon.

“We should…talk. Come inside.” No matter how much he wanted to run away and hide, to avoid all his troubles and pretend nothing was wrong, he knew nothing good would come out of it. He had just admitted it to himself; he didn’t want Alfred to go. That meant that there was a part of him that still wanted to fight. It was time to lay down the weapons and compromise.

Alfred followed Ivan inside, not saying a word. He kept a safe distance between them, as if afraid to startle him. Ivan wanted to tell him that he wasn’t an animal or a child, but he realised his behaviour might contradict him, and kept silent instead.

It was strange. Ivan had always been so good at keeping his emotions under control. Only Alfred could unravel him at a simple gesture or word.

Alfred, who was now sitting at his table, eyes still red, lips drawn together into a tight line. Keeping himself from hoping. Before, Ivan had always thought that Alfred was the bad guy in the relationship, the one who drew him in to eventually throw him away. But after everything he’d learnt, he now saw that perhaps, it was the other way around. Ivan’s romantic inexperience had caused the both of them a lot of harm.

Ivan quickly made tea, wanting to avoid having to look behind him until he had two steaming cups to place on the table. He took a seat, keeping his eyes on his folded hands. Where to begin?

Alfred, again, took initiative. “So you don’t hate me.”

Ivan chuckled dryly, humourlessly. “How could I? You are my first love. My only love, perhaps.” He frowned. Giving Alfred more false hope was not how he had meant to start this. Or was it even false?

“Really?” Alfred asked, eyebrows shooting up. “You’ve never been with anyone since me?”

Ivan made an impatient gesture. “Of course I have. It has been over ten years.”

A pang of hurt made Alfred recoil, as if he was jealous of those anonymous people he had never even met. Jealous of the years he never got to experience.

Ivan felt something twist in his stomach. He liked Alfred’s jealousy. He liked Alfred’s discomfort, as though, by hurting him, some of his own pain could be relieved. (Though he didn’t actually l _ike_ hurting Alfred. Not one bit.) But this talk was to clear everything up, not to create more misunderstandings.

Ivan didn’t want to tell him. But he also did. He _had_ to tell him.

Ivan looked deep into his cup, as if spilling his secrets to the tea instead. “But they were never…relationships. Not like what we had.”

He knew Alfred was listening intently, because no movement could be heard.

“Flings. One-night stands. Dates that never went anywhere.” His lips twitched up briefly, but smiling was unbearable right now. “I never allowed them to escalate. How could I? Knowing that…it would probably have a bad end.” He forced himself to smirk. “I guess you could say that you ruined me for other men forever, Alfred.”

He did look up when a hand was suddenly placed on top of his own. He wanted to jerk back, but Alfred’s fingers closed around his own, rooting him to the spot.

Ivan had never seen Alfred look at him like that before. It wasn’t exactly pity, but it came close enough to make Ivan hate that expression. Alfred wasn’t supposed to sympathise with his pathetic excuse for a problem. He was supposed to tell Ivan that he was acting like a child, that he had to grow up.

“I’m sorry,” Alfred said instead. “I never knew…I mean, of course I didn’t, how could I? But if I _had_ , I wouldn’t have…tried to force you into things.” He was choosing his words carefully, but Ivan could tell he wanted to say so much more. He was biting his lip. Tell-tale sign.

Ivan burnt his eyes into Alfred’s own, hoping that the eye contact would make it easier to continue. It didn’t, but he continued nonetheless.

“But you never forced anything. Everything that happened these past few months, I did of my own volition. I am the one who should be apologising to you, for not restraining myself better.”

Alfred was frowning again. “I don’t understand…what are you apologising for? For leading me on?”

“I would never!” Ivan protested.

“Then what? You’re apologising for…”

What was it, indeed?

Ivan bowed his head. “For making it seem like I have something to offer to you. Romantically. Because I do not know if I can, even if…”

Alfred was leaning over the table. “Even if you want to,” he finished for Ivan, and again, there was that sense of hope filling his eyes, his words, his everything. Ivan was doing it _again_. Hurting them both.

Ivan retracted his hand, leaving Alfred’s empty. He already missed the contact.

“That is the problem,” he growled, angry with himself. “I do still like you, Alfred. Everything is pointing towards that. But I have nothing to give! I am no longer the carefree teenager I once was, I simply cannot take a blind leap of faith and trust that I won’t fall!”

“Not even when I’m more than ready to catch you?” Alfred interjected. He was sitting at the edge of his seat, as if Ivan were telling him a suspenseful story. Hanging on Ivan’s lips. Looking at him exactly like he always used to, back when they were younger. Only from behind glasses, and with more defined cheekbones.

“This is not a game, Alfred. This is my life. Our lives.”

“I know that,” Alfred hurried to explain. “Oh, believe me, I know that. I’m just saying that, me? I am more than willing to make that jump. If you were ready to.”

“I know you are, that is part of the problem,” Ivan moaned. This was agony. His heart frolicked and his stomach fluttered at seeing Alfred this ready, this wanting, wanting _him_ , because he wanted it too. Craved, even. “But every time I even imagine anything more than just casual friendship, I am simply terrified. Or petrified, even, like it would physically hurt me. Ever since our break-up—and I know now that it was a misunderstanding, but my past self did not—I find myself unable to open up to anyone. I tried, but I couldn’t.” He hadn’t meant to say all that. It was getting harder to keep his thoughts in his head, where they belonged.

Alfred was reaching out to him again. Ivan felt a rush of conflicting emotions wash over his body. “You have to understand! I-I think I am broken somehow, that about you ruining me for relationships? May be closer to the truth than anything else!”

Alfred had placed both hands on top of his own. Ivan slumped forward, suddenly tired.

“Well, if I ruined you for everyone else, then how about trying again with me?” Alfred asked. His voice was uncharacteristically small. Their tea was getting cold.

“I’m not trying to say I’m better than everyone else, but…Ivan, I still like you. Perhaps I like you again, I don’t know. All that stuff you said about not being able to open up? I don’t get it. Please explain to me how you’ve made me like you with you being inaccessible.”

“I apologise if I did,” Ivan said softly.

Alfred leant in even closer, practically lying on top of the table now. “You’re not listening to me! You’re saying all this stuff about being rigid and whatever, but then how come I never got the feeling that you weren’t open to me? All I’ve seen is a nice guy with a great sense of humour—okay, maybe you’re a bit grumpy, but to call yourself broken because of that? Bullshit.”

Ivan felt like crying, but his eyes were dry. Maybe he felt more like taking a nap, sleeping all of this away. He was tired, after all.

“Ivan,” Alfred said, and Ivan looked into his eyes, reading nothing but sincerity. “I like you. Walls or no walls, I don’t care. I want to be with you. All I’m asking is for you to let me. I don’t care how long it takes, even if we have to go at a snail’s pace. I don’t care if it may not be all easy or all fun. You have issues? Sure. Fine by me. Everyone has issues in one way or another. But I still choose you. And not just for what we used to have. Totally cool if we have something different now. But I’ll always choose you.”

Ivan could barely believe it. Here he was, spilling his darkest secrets, and _still_ Alfred wanted to pursue him? “What could you possibly hope to gain from being with me?” he asked, voicing his disbelief.

Alfred’s mouth twitched into a lopsided smile. “A date, to start with? What we’ve had these past few months, but a little more? When you’re ready for it?”

Not if, when. As if Alfred trusted completely that Ivan was going to be okay. As if he hadn’t been listening. Not just listening, but planning ahead. As if he already figured out their entire lives.

Ivan felt a sense of vertigo, a dizziness shaking his very core. Alfred wasn’t even asking him to leap, just a small hop would do, to start with. He had just told Alfred everything, but that stupid, blond-haired idiot acted like he had no issues with it whatsoever. Like he was ready to set himself on fire. For Ivan.

Ivan looked at their hands, still folded together. As if in prayer. Alfred’s hands had always been warm, but now they also felt comforting, like a little nest. Safe and secure.

“You realise that I make no promises about the outcome? That maybe, in fear of getting hurt, I might hurt you instead?” he whispered.

“So that’s a yes to the date?” Alfred only ever heard what he wanted to hear. Or perhaps, he only heard what Ivan really wanted to say.

Ivan sighed. “It is.”

And he felt his cheeks glow when Alfred pressed a grateful kiss to his forehead.

He was complicating things again. If Alfred had left, they could have spared themselves a lot of heartache. He could have just said that he only wanted to be friends. But then, again, maybe Alfred wouldn’t have settled for less than romance. And maybe this was the right thing to do, even if it wasn’t the easy way out.

Ivan only hoped it was worth the trouble.

Maybe. Probably.

Alfred smiled at him.

Ivan wished with all his heart it would prove to be worth the trouble.


End file.
